Mount & Blade: The War Band
by Hannibal The Pharmacist
Summary: Masolon, an adventurer who has fled from oblivion in homeland to pursue his destiny in Calradia. In his journeys between the six realms of the torn empire, he meets his companions who join his war band against tyranny and injustice,in lands where kings and lords abandon their duty. Masolon and his wandering party struggle with many challenges to protect the path of this rising band
1. Chapter 1: Into Calradia

**The Caravan**

A black horse was whining from the sun heat. Struggling to keep his head up, the horse rider looked at the abandoned desert with hollow eyes. There was nothing but sun and sand. He weakly patted his horse to keep moving, hoping to find anything alive before dying alone in this desert.

Suddenly, he saw the shadows, or he thought so. Blast this desert! He was thirsty and exhausted and his senses were confused. He gazed as much as he could, and yes it looked like a caravan very far away.

Hope of life became stronger. He barely held his head up, kicked his horse with both legs, the spark of hope was transferred from rider to horse in that moment. The tired horse pulled itself together to catch the moving caravan.

The caravan master noticed the follower. "Behind you! Arm yourselves!" he cried.

Caravan guards hauled their swords to face the probable threat. The unknown rider raised his arms weakly.

"He has got a sword!" one of the guards cried.

"Water." said the rider in a weak throaty voice. "Please"

As if his strength was drained to say these two words, his head fell down again, his body was falling from the horse before it was caught by one of the guards and was laid gently to the ground. The caravan master knelt down to gave him a few cups of water, a couple of bread loaves and a small piece of cheese.

"Feeling better now?" said the caravan master.

"Yes." said the rider, with a tired smile, "Thanks"

"You are not a Khergit, are you?"

" Khergit? What is a _Khergit_?"

"You are not even from Calradia!" The caravan master exclaimed. "You should have a worthy reason that makes you pass the Great Desert by yourself."

The rider sighed slowly. "I know one thing." he said, "My life was not to go any better at the steppes. In our distant village, we used to hear many tales about the Empire, lords, opportunities, money..."

"Empire? Your tales are bit old, young man. The legendary Empire of Calradia you mean was torn two centuries ago. There are now struggling kingdoms -a notion that might be good for an adventurer like you. War and bloodshed rarely stop in this land, and strong men with mettle are always in need by warlords, if you know what I mean."

The rider grasped his sword handle saying "I am good with this."

"I hope so." the master smiled again. "for your own good." He stood up looking at the horizon. "I hope you can get up on your feet and ride your horse now. We need to reach the city of Shariz before sunset. I am sure you don't want get acquainted with desert bandits!"

The caravan started moving to resume its journey, escorting the rider whose face began to draw a smile for the first time since weeks ago.

**First Night in Shariz**

A night in Shariz market was a noisy one. Merchants were shouting, buyers were bargaining, horses were whining, hammers of the blacksmith were striking; a total new world to the rider who had never seen something like this. His life was between his distant village in the middle of nowhere and the surrounding steppes.

The stranger spent some time wandering in Shariz. Streets became less packed as midnight was approaching. By time it was getting quieter, and dogs' barks became more dominating. Most of shops were closed and only the tavern at end of the street was lighted.

"Going somewhere stranger?"

A harsh voice interrupted him while he was getting near the tavern. Before seeing their faces, Masolon turned and drew his sword to face three bandits armed with falchions and daggers. He blocked a hit from one bandit with his sword and quickly stabbed another bandit in his abdomen leaving him dead. Masolon kicked the third bandit in his abdomen and moves to evade a strike from the first bandit but he was not fast enough, his arm was scratched by the falchion of the first bandit. With his sword, Masolon quickly hit the hand of the bandit carrying the falchion, followed by another deadly strike in his neck. The third bandit fled and Masolon was apt to chase him, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"You don't need this. You are wounded." said by a man who came out of the tavern.

"It is not a big thing."

"You don't know me, do you?"

The rider's facial expressions answered it.

"I bet with my money, you are not from Shariz." the man from the tavern continued. "I am Jeremus, the city physician. Can I have the honor to get acquainted with you?"

"My name is Masolon."

"Well Masolon, you look like a good young man. Come to my house, your wounds need to heal, and I guess you don't have a shelter in this city."

It was an offer hard to refuse. Masolon was broke, and the only person he knew so far was Jeremus. The physician was a fat man, bald with some brown hair remaining. His rounded face, quiet voice and comfortable smile convinced Masolon to trust him, and follow him to his place.

**Jeremus**

Jeremus's house was a simple one near the tavern. Masolon was watching the quiet streets from the window. A delicious smell of a warm dinner reached his nose. He ate nothing in that day but for the food he was given in the caravan. Jeremus invited Masolon to join on his table.

"So, what's your story Masolon?"

Masolon looked at the bandage on his arm. "This is a good hitch indeed. It is better than we used to in our village."

Silence was Jeremus's reply. Masolon felt he should answer the question.

"Well." said Masolon. "I came from somewhere far away from here. The life I see here has nothing to do with what I lived. In my homeland, we start riding horses when we can barely walk. My life was on a horse back between wandering around the mountains steppes for hunting, and chasing bandits who attack our village as well as neighboring villages from time to time. We heard a lot of stories about 'life' and how it looked like in the kingdom behind what you call the Great Desert. Nobody dares to go through this desert, people in our village consider this suicide. Suicide to me is spending the rest of my life in such a village."

"And how did you eventually get out of the Great Desert? Even desert bandits never go there."

"All what I know when I left my village that I had to go North. I didn't have any idea about the journey duration. I took as much food and water as I can carry on my horse. I really can't remember how much time I have spent in this desert. Few weeks, may be a month. I ran out of supplies, and I spent a few days without a single drop of water."

Masolon then told Jeremus how he luckily found the caravan, and how they brought him to Shariz

"So you came here to be a mercenary?"

"I am no merchant, no physician sire. I am only good with swords and bows."

Jeremus stared at Masolon for a moment, the latter was physically strong-built. He was a tall, good-looking fellow, with dark hair to his shoulders.  
"I believe you are more than that." said Jeremus. "I know it."

Jeremus had been working as a physician and surgeon for long years. He dealt with lords and wretches. He used to examine his patients physically and mentally. Masolon considered himself good in arms, Jeremus considered himself good in reading people souls.

"I know somebody who may need your services. Get some sleep for now, tomorrow we shall meet him."

**The Quest**

Next day morning, Jeremus took Masolon to the tavern. Jeremus pointed to a man with narrow eyes and a grumpy face, sitting at a table alone. The two joined the man's table, the latter didn't raise his eyes towards them.

"Who's he?" asked the man, without looking at them.

"He is a complete stranger. No worry." said Jeremus.

Masolon turned his face to Jeremus with query.

"Don't get startled." said the man, this time with his eyes at Masolon's face. "Me myself was a stranger one day here. Originally, I was born in the Vaegirs. I was a young lad when the Khergit bandits kidnapped me. I was sold as a slave to a merchant from Baryyie. Have a drink."

The man called for the tavern keeper and then continued. "I begged Jeremus to keep this issue discreet -the lad who hired me wants to keep it like this. His son was kidnapped by desert bandits. They sent him a message to his house asking for a ransom he cannot afford at the moment. He asked me to gather a group of strong fearless young lads to rescue his son, without drawing too much attention."

"And do we know where the kidnapped son is held?" said Masolon.

His face was no longer grumpy when he answered. "Tracking and spotting is my profession. My name is Borcha. We will move in the dawn of tomorrow. We may look for one or two more lads with us. If you join us, your sweat will be rewarded with some good silver."

**Borcha**

A pack of eight horses was moving in the desert outside Shariz. Borcha was leading the group to the bandits' hideout. Masolon was barely recovering from a dreadful experience in the Great Desert. He still felt his dry tongue. He still felt his burnt skin. The sight of some villages on their way eased his journey this time.

"Some refer to the Sarranid Sultanate as the desert kingdom. The four main cities of the sultanate together with its belonging villages are located in the desert area of Calradia." said Borcha. "Those bastards are hiding near the city of Ahmerrad. We need to take them by surprise. Jeremus told me how you defeated three bandits on your own. I hope we can make use of your skills today."

"And how the _non-desert _areas look like, Borcha?" asked Masolon.

"Oh my Lord! One time you have to see the Swadian fields, the snow lands of Rivacheg, and the gardens of Veluca."

"Snow?"Masolon exclaimed. "How far are these lands?"

"Ah! You are asking the right person a wrong question. My answer will vary according to many issues: how large your party is, how much cavalry and infantry in your party, what types of horses your cavalry mount –steppe horses are the fastest beasts in all Calradia- how much load your party carries."

Borcha noticed how Masolon was impressed. He continued "Many caravan guides know these matters, but they miss one big thing: taking the _right _path to their destination. I heard one of them bragging that he escorted a caravan from Baryyie to Wercheg in three weeks! Three weeks! I could have done that in a week! Most of travelers in Calradia rely on the Nordic map. Nords are renowned of venturing and wandering. May be they are brave explorers, yet they are lousy ones. Their map gives you some sort of direction, but speaking of distances estimation it is far from accurate. I use only _my _map, which is only in my head. All my life I have been testing every span in this land myself."

When meeting for the first time, Borcha didn't look as that sort of talkative fellow. Masolon was a complete ignorant about Calradia, he was in a dire need for such a bragging lad like Borcha.

The travelling pack slowed down with a gesture from Borcha before they completely stopped. He dismounted and inspected some tracks on the ground.

"Same tracks we spotted at the kidnapping site. They are fourteen, all mounted." said Borcha.

"Fourteen? You knew this from the beginning before we left Shariz, didn't you?" said one of the companions.

"Aye" said Borcha with his yellow smile "I didn't wish to bother you in your journey. Now get ready."

**Blade and Blood**

According to Borcha, the kidnappers were hiding in the village of Aab. Masolon recalled that days in his homeland, when he was chasing bandits near his village. It was a very familiar situation to him as he used to be outnumbered, yet he was missing his hunting bow he lost during the dreadful passage of the Great Desert.

The eight dauntless lads sneaked into Aab. Borcha was checking the ground every moment before he pointed to an abandoned mill at the end of the village. Masolon approached Borcha quietly.

"If I were them, I would have placed archers on those windows at the top." Masolon whispered.

Borcha pointed with his fist to the rest to stop.

"What is your suggestion?" said Borcha whispering.

Masolon left Borcha, and went alone towards the mill. He stood for a moment examining the area surrounding the mill, then moved again, going closer and closer.

"Is he mad?" Borcha muttered.

Suddenly, Masolon threw himself behind some rubble before an arrow was hurled at the very same position he was standing in. Borcha would never understand how that had happened. Being raised in such a hostile homeland, Masolon's senses and agility grew wild.

Again, Masolon missed his bow. Lying behind the rubble, he looked back where his companions hide behind the houses. Borcha and the other six men advanced swiftly towards the mill from different directions to distract the window archers. At the same moment, Masolon jumped quickly from his hideout, and ran as fast as he can towards the mill front door. Arrows whizz was heard more than once in this raid, together with a crying voice from pain. Seven men succeeded in breaking in, one fell down.

The two archers at the top of the mill started to direct their arrows towards the intruders. Masolon quickly sneaked out the mill, climbed from outside to reach the windows. Stunned by Masolon's sally from their back, the two archers couldn't thwart the attacker.

"Charge!" cried Masolon urging his companions to aid him up. The rest of the kidnappers after losing their archery cotamarge drew their swords to attack him, while in the same time, Borcha and the rest hurried upwards to engage them before finishing Masolon off.

It was a mixed noise of blades hitting blades, blades cutting through flesh, and men screaming with aggression or pain. The battle ended with ten killed bandits and two from Masolon's party. A man was tied up to the corner.

"Here is our bounty." said Masolon. "I hope they didn't hurt him."

"That was madness!" said Borcha holding Masolon's hand firmly. "I like it."

"You said fourteen Borcha, we only killed twelve." said one of the remaining companions.

"The two remaining should have gone to fetch some food or supplies. We will not wait for them, but if they come we shall be ready." said Borcha.

Masolon's untied the hostage who thanked him and the other rescuers. Masolon didn't know what to say. The whole matter was for silver not for chivalry.

"I have never seen such bravery." said the hostage to Masolon as they left the mill. "It is an honor for me to meet you sire. I believe we shall meet again when we go back to Shariz. Marnid is my name."

**Marnid**

Two days passed since the Aab quest. Masolon received a message at Jeremus's house from someone who wants to meet him at the tavern. It was from Marnid.

"You must have left an impression." said Jeremus with a smile to Masolon, who replied with a smile in return before stepping out of Jeremus's house, heading to the tavern.

Both Borcha and Marnid were waiting for Masolon. The moment he joined their table, Borcha handed him a clinking purse.

"Your cut brother." said Borcha.

Masolon was hesitated for a moment. He looked at Marnid who in turn said "No shame Masolon. We all knew it was a matter of business. Please take your money."

No music was as sweet as silver tinkle. Masolon was feeling better when took the money from Borcha, he enjoyed the texture of the full pouch in his hand by stealth beneath the table.

"My family is originally from Geroia." said Marnid. "It's a county outside Calradia. My father was a big merchant there, till he decided to shift his business to Calradia, where dreams of fortune are near than fiction. He took me with him to Sargoth to start up, where he had some connections with Nordic merchants. I was still young, but I was thinking from my first day in Calradia to have my own trading business. I had to learn about prices here, and from where you can get best goods with low prices."

Marnid looked at Borcha then continued to Masolon "That was how I met Borcha. He was the best to guide me in this land. He leads the way, and I bargain with merchants. Everything was fine till my caravan going to Halmar was interrupted by Khergit bandits."

"You didn't take me in this trip with you." said Borcha "That's why you fell easily in their ambush."

Masolon was thinking when Borcha could stop bragging. It was obvious that Marnid was used to such reaction from the veteran tracker.

"They spared my life for surrendering the caravan with all money, goods and even horses to them." said Marnid. "Indeed, it was a generous offer from them! I spent rough days wandering between steppes and desert still I barely made it to Shariz alive."

That last part of wandering reminded Masolon with his miserable journey. He would have said to Marnid that all what he was telling is nothing compared to the horrifying passage through the Great Desert. For some reason, he let Marnid resume his story "I wrote to my father as soon as I arrived here. He as a merchant, was not to waste such an occasion. He had never been before to any city of the Sarranid Sultanate, and it was a precious opportunity to make some trade here. He came here to Shariz, intending to stay for a week to conclude some deals with merchants here. It seemed that my father's activity provoked the greed of some lads here. I believe they should have been tracking me for some time, hoping for a big prize."

Masolon was watching the paradox of the two men sitting opposite to him. Marnid was a short handsome fellow who talked in a decent way, unlike Borcha who was arrogant and grumpy, yet Masolon found the rough tracker an interesting character.

"I am traveling today with my father back to Sargoth. I shall start again my trade, yet I need some time. Once my caravan is ready, I will summon you. I need a fine warrior like you to lead a small troop of caravan guards, and of course you will do me a great favor if you can find me other men with strength and mettle, like you."

Masolon knew from Marnid that gathering a caravan might take weeks or months. It was a bit disappointing for Masolon, who didn't want to miss the taste of silver for long.

**The Tournament**

The man from the far steppes wanted to find a place for him, a notion objected by Jeremus. The physician advised Masolon not waste his little fortune. "A man like you is destined to wander. Once you come to Shariz, you know where your home is." Jeremus once said to Masolon.

Masolon used to hear people in the tavern betting on something they called 'the tournament'. It was a Calradian tradition where warriors contended for the title of the city champion. Next tournament was going to be held in Jelkala, capital of the Rhodoks.

It was another ride on his black horse, but it was different this time. No more sandy terrain as Masolon ventured inside the Rhodoks Kingdom. The sight of wooded mountains at dusk near Jelkala was pleasant to the eyes of the travelling outsider during the fourth day of his journey.

At last Masolon made it to the arena and enlisted his name for the tournament. There were no many rules in such contest. Anyone can participate and try his luck for silver and fame through progressing rounds. When the number of contenders was large, they fight in first rounds in teams, losers were eliminated round after round, till one winner at the end.

It was a dusty room in the arena where Masolon was checking his wooden weapon with a sort of confusion. A bald lad with a heavy moustache from his three teammates noticed him in his wonder.

"Your first time?" asked the bald lad with his rough voice.

Masolon answered with an affirmative nod, the bald lad continued "You look strong, use your arm to lay the heaviest blow you can on your opponent with this wooden thing, and this must do."

Masolon was not totally convinced, he felt those wooden weapons too light to leave some damage. He watched his other three mates checking their wooden weapons and shields.

"My name is Rolf." said the bald fellow. "I participated in few tournaments, yet I can tell you it is so unlucky to face Dranton at such an early stage. He is a veteran champion of these tournaments. This time I must beat him, but you three, don't let them outnumber me. It should be me and Dranton alone."

Horns were blown. It was time for warriors to enter the arena.

**The Man Who Hurt the Champion**

Masolon and Rolf stepped in the stage with their two teammates to face eight fighters from two teams.

The first moments of the whole encounter were a whole havoc. Fighters of three struggling teams were mingled together. Men were falling down, but not Masolon. The outsider was near Rolf to block any opponent other than Dranton. At the beginning, Masolon was not comfortable with his wooden weapon, but he recalled the bald lad's advice. Two men fell unconscious from Masolon's strikes.

It took a while before all fighters were left injured or unconscious but for three of them. Masolon and his fellow found themselves face to face with the feared Dranton. Masolon charged fiercely but was evaded swiftly by Dranton who in turn struck Masolon hard from his back, leaving him sweeping dust with his face, and it was only Rolf remaining to duel with the veteran champion.

Dranton was to finish Rolf, but for his astonishment, his ears caught some movement behind him. It was Masolon getting himself up on his feet. That moment of astonishment was enough for Rolf to lay some damage on Dranton, yet the latter didn't fell down. Dranton hit Rolf hard with his wooden shield and turned with agility to strike Masolon with his wooden sword. Masolon's weapon was crushed in his hand after receiving a heavy blow from his veteran opponent, but again, Dranton was surprised by Masolon's reaction. The moment he lost his weapon, Masolon broke Dranton's nose with a surprising head butt.

The crowd cheered for the stranger who made the veteran champion shed some blood. Dranton was getting raged, and struck Masolon's face heavily. Dranton waited for his opponent to fall down, but he just stepped a few steps back from the impact of the strike. Dranton gave him a final strike that left Masolon with confused senses. At last the outsider gave up and closed his eyes.

Again the crowd hailed but this time for the winner. Only one man in the crowd with a well-shaved beard, wearing fine clothes was standing still. His eyes were on nothing but the man who hurt the champion.

**Rolf**

Masolon left the arena with some bruises and bandages. Rolf had less damage but more of frustration.

"I was never so close to defeat him!" said Rolf, who felt he lost a splendid opportunity when he and Masolon were outnumbering Dranton.

"When is the coming tournament?" asked Masolon.

"The tournament master told that there will be another one to be held after two weeks in Praven, the jewel of Calradia."

"How Praven can be more pleasant than here, in Jelkala?"

"Jelkala is a pleasant place to the eye, but Praven is something else. It is surrounded by green plains from all sides, except for one facing the blue sea. The air is not flaming like the hell of the Sarranids lands, not freezing like in the Vaegirs Kingdom, not dry as at the Khergit steppes.

Swadians believe themselves as the rightful heir of the broken Calradian Empire, hence they consider Praven the capital of Calradia not just for the Kingdom of Swadia."

Masolon thought of asking Rolf to join him with Marnid's caravan.

"Where are you staying, Rolf?"

"Once I used to have a place near Ehlerdah, but no more. Blasted King Esterich -the Swadian King at that time- sentenced the whole family of Rolf to death. My father -the third baron in my family under the name of Rolf- disputed with that tyrant on lands owned by our family for decades. I still remember the echoes of the hooves of the Swadian horses coming from the horizon. Swadian knights were everywhere killing and burning anything alive. I was a boy when I fled this massacre. I ran like a fool in the forests till I was found by the bandits."

Sorrow was at Masolon's face at the part, Rolf continued "How ironic! Our parents used to scare us from bandits when we were children, yet they were those who raised me up!"

"Bandits _raised_ you up?!"

"Don't look at me like this. They taught me how to defend myself and survive. I may have committed some bad deeds but I had no choice. After ten years living with bandits I abandoned them and started wandering in Calradia. I spent two years as a castle guard for one of the Sarranids emirs. I was hired for a period of time as a mercenary for a Khergit lord -or as they say in their homelands _noyan_. I still hope that one day I can join a worthy warlord, and till then, as you see, I am wandering from a tournament to another."

Masolon became hesitated to offer Rolf to join him, especially after he had heard the bandits' part.

"If I find a good opportunity for you and me as well, how can I find you?" said Masolon.

"Simple" Rolf smiled "Just follow the tournaments."

The two men parted. Masolon mounted his black horse to leave Jelkala while two persons were keeping their eyes on him. One of them was a young lady, and the other was the man with fine outfit from the arena.

"Is he a worthy hunt?" asked the young lady.

"He is, Xerina. Have I been mistaken with you before?"

**The Man with Fine Outfit**

Masolon was near the mountains on his way back to Shariz when he started to feel he is followed. Masolon stopped his horse for a while and looked around him. Two horse riders were approaching straight forward to Masolon. It was Xerina and the other man from the arena.

"We mean no harm. No need for any surprising moves." said the man from the arena "I was interested to meet you after I had seen your performance in the arena against Dranton."

"What performance? I was blown at the end." said Masolon with a cautious tone. With an inbred instinct, his hand was getting near his sword.

"I understand your suspicions. However, you have to know that I am here for the good of both of us."

Masolon still looked suspicious, the well-shaved man smiled as if he had expected that. He leaned towards Masolon asking "Don't you want to be a tournament champion?"

Masolon wanted to know the end of this gibberish. He let the man continued "I can hardly remember anyone who could bear such heavy blows you endured, as if you have iron not flesh! Your muscles are strong, your movements are swift, yet you don't seem to have much skill, yet I can make you stronger, and yet I can make you more agile. Don't think me a sort of pretender. I used to train elite military troops."

"You used to train elite military troops and you want to train me?"

"It's a long story. I shall tell it to you on our journey to my headquarters."

Masolon was thinking for a moment when Xerina said "It looks awkward for a big lad like you to be scared."

"I am not scared." replied Masolon firmly before addressing her companion "All right. Let me suppose you train me, develop my combat skills -as you claim- and eventually I became a tournament champion. what will you get from this at the end?"

"Ah! This is the question! The answer is simple; I take a cut from your prize, in addition to the bets. And since you are a new lad here, odds will be high against you, and higher odds mean more money, my friend. Names like Dranton and Kradus are not bringing as much silver as they used to before."

Masolon stared at him, the latter nodded his head continuing "Yes, yes. What were you thinking of? Dranton and all other names you might have heard in people's chants in the previous years were made by me. Renowned warriors you see now should have come at Lezalit's pit. They usually step in as strong, brave and tough lads, yet naïve in terms of skills and technique. After a couple of months, they emerge invincible legends."

Masolon paused for a moment; he gave a look at the well-shaved man with his fine outfit before saying "It is a nice story you say, it might be true, it might be false, I don't know. I think there is only one way to be sure."

Knowing what it meant, the man smiled saying "I shall be glad if you do so."

The two men drew their swords. Masolon noticed that Xerina stood still as nothing was happening in front of her.

"She is used to that, it's just another training lesson." said the man to Masolon.

Masolon charged with his sword but blocked by his opponent's sword as well, and in blink of an eye, he found his opponent turning around before he felt the pain of his opponent's blade on his right leg.

"I should have cut your knee, but I need you with both legs." said the well-shaved man.

"It's just a scratch."

"It's a scratch because I _wanted_ it so. Are we done here?"

Realizing that the man was not blabbering in their conversation, Masolon returned his sword back to its scabbard. The well-shaved man and Xerina mounted their horses, waiting for Masolon to join.

"Lezalit. This is your name, right?" cried Masolon.

"I can see you are hard to confuse. I like that." said Lezalit

**Lezalit's Pit**

Six years ago, Lezalit left Geroia –the county outside Calradia- where he learnt military tactics and arts of combat. He was hired by Vaegirs to train their soldiers, but they didn't bear his brutal methods. From his point of view, Vaegirs were good fighters, yet they were lousy and had no tolerance to discipline. Afterwards he left them and decided to work for his own.

At his headquarters, somewhere near a Swadian village called Sarimish, he was training two types of warriors: one for warlords for their endless wars, and the other type was for entertainment.

"Unlike you might be thinking of; I always keep my best warriors for tournaments" said Lezalit to Masolon on their way "Soldiers die quickly in this everlasting bloodshed, it's a pity to waste time and sweat like that! My piece of advice to you: don't tell anybody why you are here. Understood, young man?"

On arriving, Masolon understood why Lezalit's headquarters were called 'pit'. The whole place was constructed on a natural vast land depression. There was a building that resembled the arena Masolon saw in Jelkala, and not far from this building, horses whining were so clear; it was obvious there was a stable nearby.

"A clever engineer helped me building this place like this. My friend Artimenner knew that I need some tough conditions for my training field. Here, air is dry and wind is scarce. This makes you tolerate exhaustion better than anybody else."

There were a dozen of fighters at that time in the pit busy in different activities. For a moment, all eyes looked at the new comer, some with curiosity, others with carelessness, before resuming what they were doing.

"I guess your rest is over." said Lezalit.

In his first month, Masolon was thinking Vaegirs should have executed Lezalit rather just releasing him for service. The man's methods for training were sometimes brutal. Once Masolon found himself sparring with two opponents in a field surrounded by a ring of fire, making it felt like hell.

"The only way to put out this fire is to beat your opponents. All ways are possible except pushing them into the fire, of course." said Lezalit.

Day after day, the ring was getting narrower, number of opponents inside the ring was increasing, having the permission to push Masolon to the ring burning edge.

'Guests' of the pit hardly sleep. Many nights they were waked up by Lezalit's whip. Sometimes Masolon felt that the whole matter was insane, and Lezalit was a lunatic himself. He quarreled with Lezalit a couple of times. One time he got severely exhausted from his training sessions.

"You are a mad man! I wonder why you have not been killed by one of your students before!" said Masolon.

"I do know you can endure more than you think of yourself! One day you will thank me!"

Yet, training at the pit was not only about endurance.

"Each one of us has his preferred weapon." said Lezalit "Forget this for now."

By the end of his third month in the pit, Masolon had tested spears, axes, swords and crossbows; on foot and mounted.

"If you can field an army of Swadian and Sarranid cavalry, Nordic and Rhodok infantry and Vaegir archers, nothing can stop you if want to conquer Calradia." said Lezalit to Masolon in one of the rare moments they sat together at ease. It was Masolon's last night in the pit, and for the first time he was eating a warm meal.

"Me? Conquer Calradia?"

"I mean any military leader who might do so." said Lezalit before he smiled in a sarcastic way "When I say you, it doesn't necessarily mean _you_. _You_ should have packed to leave for Rivacheg by tomorrow sunrise."

"Rivacheg? What for?"

"You thought you would leave my pit and go back home? _You _have a tournament to win, and the next one will be held in Rivacheg after eight days. I will catch you later, I have some matters of mine to take care of."

Masolon got up to go to his chamber saying "Try not to be late, otherwise you will miss your cut."

"I will not. I don't want to miss the people of Rivacheg chanting your name."

**Into the Nordic Valley**

Masolon thought of passing by Marnid in Sargoth to see if there were any news about his caravan. As that might make his journey to Rivacheg longer, he didn't want Lezalit to know anything about that issue.

"Travelling to Rivacheg is the most dangerous in Calradia. Sea raiders are everywhere around." said Lezalit to Masolon before leaving "It would be a deadly practice before the tournament, sea raiders are the worst raiders in this land.

Lezalit advised Masolon not to travel by the sea coast to avoid the Nordic Valley near Rivacheg, and instead to follow the snow north east to Curaw, then north to Rivacheg. Masolon assured him that he knew the way and there was no need to worry. With his sword in its scabbard, and his new shield, bow and arrow bag on his back, Masolon mounted his horse, and both disappeared in the horizon.

Four days later, a nice breeze of air made Masolon felt refreshed when he passed through the gates of Sargoth. It was his first time to be so close from the northern sea.

Masolon went to the marketplace to find Marnid. He knew from merchants that Marnid took over his father's business after the later returned back to Geroia for some family matters.

"Most probably, he is currently one day far from Yalen." said one of the merchants to Masolon.

It was frustrating for Masolon. With his journey to Sargoth, he was jeopardizing catching the tournament in Rivacheg. He didn't give in, looked for Marnid's house in Sargoth till he found it, but windows were shut and doors were locked.

Without having enough rest, Masolon left Sargoth and headed to Rivacheg. He knew from some travelers that he had no other alternative than going by the coast if he wanted to catch the tournament, but he must be cautious and try not to drag attention of sea raiders.

"There are two ways to pass through the deadly Nordic Valley." said a traveler to Masolon. "You go there with an army, and no one dares to follow you. You go there alone, and you pray they don't notice you!"

Two days remained for the tournament, Masolon at that time was near Jayek, a Nordic village. The sight of mountains ahead made him feel nervous as he was approaching the cursed valley.

With a dire need for sleep, Masolon was not able to resist anymore. He hid himself and his horse behind some trees to have some rest.

It hadn't been for a while before his eyes opened suddenly. He was sure he heard something. He rose to reach his horse, but interrupted by a thrown axe that just missed his nose by a hair. He threw himself to the ground before two more thrown axes missed him. Cries of the attackers were heard so clear. Masolon rose his head, he saw two raiders hurrying towards his hideout. They were getting so close that he could hit only one of them dead with his bow, and the second was slain by his sword. He looked behind the trees to check it was over but he saw four more men charging.

"A deadly practice, Lezalit." he muttered.

Masolon charged with fury, knocking down his opponents with his sword and shield.

"Anyone else wishes to die tonight!" cried Masolon at the vast valley ahead of him. His arm was slightly wounded after that encounter.

"I will drink from your skull!" a voice heard from behind. Masolon found around a dozen of men heading to him, blocking his way back to his tied horse.

Time for Masolon was frozen, moments were very slow to move. For a blink he recalled the heat of the Great Desert in his deadly passage. His memories were interrupted by horse whining, but it was not his. Eight horse riders charged from behind the sea raiders, sweeping them in their way. In a short while, the terrain was stained by raiders' blood.

Masolon stared at his rescuers. Their helmets and armor told they were not mere horse riders. One of them approached Masolon who was still on foot. He took off his helmet revealing his brown short hair and short moustache.

"It's unwise to make such noise in a deadly place like this!" said the brown-haired man "Meanwhile, this helped us hear you."

"Thank you sire. My honor to meet you."

"Call me Firentis."

**Firentis's Redemption**

"We are the Valley watchmen." said Firentis "This place is well resided by those evil thugs. We used to patrol around nearby villages to stop their attacks on barehanded peasants."

Masolon looked at Firentis and his knights. He recalled what Lezalit had told him before about Calradian factions.

"This is strange. I didn't know that Nords could raise such powerful cavalry." said Masolon.

"We are not Nords." said Firentis "We are Swadians."

"So, why should Kingdom of Swadia send troops to help the Nords? As far as I know they are at war with each other."

"We are sent by no one. We represent nobody. We represent ourselves."

Masolon eyebrows met together, he needed to understand more.

"I was a cavalry captain in Suno." said Firentis "In a moment of foolishness I committed the meanest sin of all! I slew my brother with my own hands! I was drunk when we quarreled that I realized what happened when I saw his blood on the floor."

Firentis took a deep breath after that painful memory before following "I couldn't face my family. I abandoned Suno and all Swadia, and I swore that my blade wouldn't ever dare touch any innocent."

"So, you are seeking salvation." said Masolon in a low voice.

Firentis looked at the surrounding valley saying "I knew before that poor peasants in this land are suffering from the cruelty of those sea bastards. It's a pity that Nordic jarls are not protecting their people because they are busy in their bloody wars. One year ago, nine of the bravest and most trustworthy knights I have ever known before, agreed to join me in my quest."

"For a whole year, we have been protecting this land." said one of Firentis's knights "Unfortunately we lost two dear friends in our noble mission."

Firentis looked at Masolon with his equipment.

"Your strength and the way you fight tell that you are a sort of regular soldier, they don't match your simple outfit." said Firentis.

"I am no soldier. I am just like you on my own."

"Why don't you join us? Those wicked thugs should taste your blade again and again."

"Look Firentis, I do understand your noble cause, and one day I shall follow this path myself. For the time being, I have some matters to take care of."

Masolon mounted his horse to resume his journey to Rivacheg.

"Why don't you do those peasants a favor and teach them how to defend themselves?" asked Masolon "After all, you eight are disciplined warriors."

Firentis shook his head for a moment before saying "Sounds a good idea. Sounds better if you helped us in this."

Masolon looked at Firentis with wonder, the latter continued "Don't you have any debts you wish to release your soul from?"

Masolon pulled his horse bridle to start moving.

"I might think of it, but not for the sake of redemption." said Masolon

The black horse started galloping with its rider on its back.

"We will be waiting for you." cried Firentis as Masolon was getting away "Good journeys to you Masolon."


	2. Chapter 2: Dawn of the War Band

**King Yaroglek**

It was two days before Masolon's encounter with the sea riders, when a new morning started with heavy rainfall on Reyvadin, the capital of Vaegirs Kingdom. The newly crowned King Yaroglek was watching the grey sky from his terrace in the royal palace which was located at the heart of the city.

A Vaegir lord was standing by the terrace, waiting for his king.

"My king, shall we go?"

Yaroglek kept looking at the cloudy sky and the rain that flooded the whole city.

"You still think it is a good idea, Boyar Ralcha?" asked Yaroglek without looking at his trustworthy vassal.

"Your majesty, it is a very popular contest."

"It has been only two week since King Burelek's death."

"Our sorrow will remain deep in our hearts my king. However, it is important for the rightful king of Vaegirs to witness such a big event with his people."

Ralcha didn't receive any reply from his king, he continued "I summoned most of our lords to meet us in Rivacheg."

On hearing that, Yaroglek's face showed how he was disturbed by such news.

"I won't leave our borders exposed for the sake of a silly tournament." said Yaroglek with tense in his voice.

"Of course you are right my king. I want to assure your majesty that our border castles at the Khergits side are well-garrisoned, no need to worry. My king, again, it is not for the sake of the tournament, it is important that your people see you alongside with your lords to wipe any gossips. You know what was rumored since the exile of Prince Valdym... "

Ralcha was interrupted by an angry look from Yaroglek on mentioning the name.

"His name is Valdym the Bastard" said Yaroglek slowly "He is called so because he is a bastard, not a prince."

Yaroglek pointed with his fingers to two servants carrying his royal robe. They humbly hurried to him, helping him getting dressed. The captain of royal bodyguards came and stood at the terrace door.

"Your highness, the royal escort is ready, waiting for your majesty" said the captain.

Yaroglek and Ralcha left with the captain to join the awaiting royal escort.

"It must be snowing right now in Rivacheg." said Ralcha.

"I prefer to watch true Vaegir men fighting in this weather. We must not forget that snow had been always our ally for generations."

**Ruling the Rivacheg Arena**

A Vaegir guard was patrolling in the streets of Rivacheg. He hold his spear towards a black horse galloping to his direction crying "You! Halt!"

Masolon whose shoulders became covered with snow, stopped his horse just in front of the guard who continued "Are you insane? You may have killed someone."

"Forgive my foolishness sir, I am a stranger who needs to catch the tournament."

"If you are saying the truth, then you are late. You will hardly find a spot to watch from. People are filling the arena already."

"I am here to participate, not to watch."

The guard lowered his spear saying "I should arrest you for your foolishness. Look, you do me a favor, and I let you go."

Masolon was astonished when the guard gave him ten silver coins from his pocket.

"I am not allowed to enter the arena on duty. You take these coins and put a bet for me on Kradus." said the guard.

"Suppose he wins, how can you be so sure that I give you your money?"

"If you don't, I will find you and I will kill you. This is all the money I have right now."

Masolon took the guard's money and left him to catch the tournament before it was too late.

It was a wide crowded room inside the arena where Masolon was looking for the arena master to enlist his name. At last he found him, but the latter refused to write his name.

"You are too late young man. We are about to start." said the arena master.

It was a dark feeling. Masolon was late because of his journey to Sargoth. He didn't find Marnid, and missed the tournament as well after a deadly experience.

"Your name is already enlisted Masolon."

A spot of light was coming in. How could that be? Masolon recognized that feminine voice.

"Xerina?" said Masolon.

Lezalit sent his assistant to take care of his business. The veteran trainer was not to leave any chance for accidents for his money.

There was no time to waste. Masolon sought his teammates for the first round. According to the tournament draw, he was in a team of eight that will face another team of the same size. All members of the winning team qualify to the next stage.

The Rivacheg arena was much bigger than that of Jelkala. Fighters in Vaegirs tournaments were a blend of cavalry and infantry, a different setting than what Masolon saw in the Rhodoks kingdom.

Horns were blown, fighters were hurrying into the arena from opposite sides, Masolon started on a horse in that round knocking down anything standing in his way. Five men were blown by Masolon's lance, including the horse rider of the opposite team. His remaining teammates handled the rest of their opponents. A winning team was hailed by the crowd, but a special one was for the winning mounted warrior. Masolon was testing a new feeling that filled his soul with warmth in that freezing weather. Xerina was watching among the chanting crowd with a smile.

Round after round, Masolon was beating his opponents, entertaining the crowd with his moves, earning their applause after each fight. The foreigner was having the best of his time so far since he came to Calradia.

Dusk was approaching, it was the end of the day's fights, and people should come the next day to know who would be the ruler of Rivacheg arena.

Masolon found Xerina waiting for him outside the arena.

"That was a good performance." said Xerina. "Survive the coming fight, and reach the final round."

"Survive?" said Masolon with disapproval.

"Ah! I didn't tell you." said Xerina with a her cynical smile "Your next encounter is against Dranton and Kradus, together."

**Looking for the Path**

It was early evening when Masolon went to the tavern to entertain himself with a drink. He found there a familiar bald head.

"Rolf!" said Masolon "I was wondering when I shall see you."

"I told you before; just follow the tournaments."

Rolf was telling Masolon how he was knocked off in the last tier in a cavalry duel.

"He was a lucky bastard. The saddle slipped and I fell from my horse. Most probably he is your teammate in the next round. I heard you will be facing Kradus and Dranton. I heard also that you were blowing anyone standing in your way."

Rolf paused for a moment before saying "I have some news from Uxkhal. They say that Lord Tredian is recruiting volunteers for his army. What do you think?"

"I am really not sure Rolf." Masolon recalled his conversation with Firentis. "I wish he is a worthy warlord as you have been seeking."

"In Calradia, a lord who is paying gold is a worthy one to join. Gold is good Masolon."

"I meant does he deserve to die for?"

"I do not care how _noble _the cause he is fighting for. A mercenary follows his lord as long he is paying."

Rolf drank half of his drink in a gulp before asking "What are you seeking Masolon? Wealth? Power? Fame? Salvation? You have to choose my friend."

"I am no monk Rolf, but I can distinguish right and wrong. I want to earn my gold, but I won't stain my blade with innocent blood. Those knights Rolf, who followed their lord's orders and burnt your family alive didn't care how _noble_ the cause they were fighting for, because their lord was a _worthy _one to follow."

Rolf bent his head down at that part thinking for a moment.

"You may have a point Masolon, but what do you suggest? Run for a tournament after the other? That's it?"

"Listen Rolf. This land is plagued with bandits and raiders everywhere. Those bastards are whom we should raise our blades upon. I won't ever hesitate in slaying their throats myself. We can do this together Rolf. We will find someone who reward our services for this."

Rolf finished the remaining half with another gulp before saying "Forget this blabber for now, you have a tournament to win tomorrow. I heard that King Yaroglek will be there and he may honor the winner himself."

"You didn't tell me who is my mate in the next round, did you?"

"I don't remember I have seen him before in any tournament. I heard somebody in the arena referring to him as 'The Vaegir noble'. His name is Alayen."

**Invincible**

Snowfall stopped on next morning. Everybody in the arena was waiting for their king's arrival. The contending teams were standing in the field, nobody dared to start before the permission of King Yaroglek.

Masolon was on foot beside his mounted teammate Alayen. The Vaegir was quite handsome young lad.

"Are you really a noble as they say?" asked Masolon.

"I am not here not to prate." replied Alayen firmly "I am here to beat these two, then it is between me and you in the final."

Masolon was offended by his mate's tone. He knew that in the previous tiers, Alayen was invincible on his horse, yet he -Masolon- expected more respect. He stepped towards Alayen and looked at him straight in the eyes.

"Listen you! This arena does not know nobles, does not know lords. It does know only strength and winners. I will win this fight just to make sure I beat you hard in the coming round!"

The tense was interrupted by drums and trumpets declaring the king's arrival. The royal party entered with a sort of celebration from the crowd. Masolon was thinking what that celebration was for. Was it out of fear? Was it respect? Was the crowd cheering by his own will as they did for Masolon the day before?

Yaroglek waved to his subjects and gave the fighters his permission to start. Alayen charged with his horse, Dranton -who was also mounted-charged from the opposite side, each one with his lance towards the other, a clash happened and one fell down from his horse. It was Alayen.

"Blast!" said Masolon who was running towards his mate to aid him, but Kradus intercepted his way. Two wooden poles collided with each other. Both fighters were strong, both were agile. The crowd enjoyed the sight of the two struggling poles; each pole was seeking a vulnerable spot to hit.

On the other side, Alayen was getting up on his feet. He turned his head right and left looking for his horse, but didn't have a chance. Dranton charged with his galloping horse, hitting Alayen mercilessly with his beast.

The crowd was shocked by the brutal attack. Though Masolon didn't like Alayen's arrogance, he was raged by Dranton savagery. Masolon managed to hit Kradus's leg, and the veteran fighter slipped and fell on his back. It was Masolon on foot against mounted Dranton.

"It's your turn now!" cried Dranton.

"You coward!" cried Masolon.

Everyone in the arena including King Yaroglek watched with astonishment Masolon who was running towards the galloping horse. The anticipated crush didn't happen as expected; Masolon at the very last moment stepped left before jumping to Dranton's right, hitting him with fury in his chest. The surprising charge made the champion of Jelkala tournament fall on his shoulder. Masolon could hear Dranton's bones cracking.

Masolon looked at the crowd but it was not over yet. Kradus rose and hurried towards him with a heavy strike. Masolon fell on the ground with his pole still in his grasp. He rolled himself to evade a finishing blow from Kradus. The latter found his legs swept by Masolon's pole, who hit him while still laying on the ground. Masolon quickly was up on his feet, kicking Kradus's weapon from his hand, and putting his pole on the forehead of the veteran warrior. The arena waited the final blow from Masolon.

Kradus, whose injured knee held him from any further maneuvers, felt the wooden texture of his opponent's pole. It was a mere push not a severe strike as expected. Masolon refused to finish a fallen injured unarmed man, threw his pole away and looked up to the crowd's reaction.

It was a moment of silence in the arena, broken by Yaroglek who stood up and greeted Masolon with a clap. The king's applause initiated a storm of clapping and chanting with Masolon's name that shook the whole place.

The tournament master checked Alayen and found him alive yet severely injured and was not able to resume fighting. As a result, the tournament master announced Masolon as the new invincible champion of Rivacheg. The ruler of the arena felt his lungs filled with much more air than ever.

**Invitation**

Masolon came out of the arena master's room after receiving his prize. It was long time ago since Masolon heard the music of clinking silver. Down the corridor he found a man with fine outfit waiting for him.

"I was wondering when you shall appear." said Masolon.

"I was never to miss your chant." smiled Lezalit.

Masolon gave Lezalit his cut, then the later asked "Why were you late?"

It was Xerina surely, she must have told him.

"Nothing happened, I made it to the fights, this is what matters to you." replied Masolon who was leaving Lezalit behind, but the latter hold his shoulder firmly.

"Masolon, do not ever dare risk my money. You heard that?"

Masolon pushed Lezalit's hand with the same firmness. The situation was going to grow more tense, but it was interrupted by a royal page who appeared in the corridor looking for someone called Masolon. The king was inviting the new champion of Rivacheg to his feast at night at the city palace.

"I told you; one day you would thank me." smiled Lezalit.

"Listen Lezalit. I might owe you for your training to me, but that doesn't make me your slave."

"Slave? You are going to far Masolon and the whole matter is quite simple. You make sure that you participate in each tournament, that is all I request."

"For how long?"

"For how long?! Do you have other plans that I don't know? What are you thinking of? You want to be a mercenary and join an infantry squad of some lord, and live every day as if it is your last day?! I am offering a life you wouldn't even dare to dream of; gold and fame. How can you refuse that?"

Rolf arrived at that moment, he found Masolon and Lezalit arguing.

"My friend, anything wrong?" said Rolf suspiciously.

"Everything is fine." said Lezalit to Rolf while leaving. He then addressed Masolon saying "I will be waiting for you champion in Shariz after seven weeks. Don't leave me disappointed."

Rolf followed Lezalit with his eyes till he left.

"Who is this lad and what does he want from you?" asked Rolf.

"It is a long story I may tell you later." replied Masolon. "I have something I want you to do for me."

Masolon told Rolf about the guard who stopped him before the tournament and asked Masolon to bet on Kradus. Masolon handed Rolf a purse of silver coins and asked him to give it to the guard, who would be on duty at the city gate. He described the guard to Rolf so as the latter can recognize him.

Rolf held the purse with wonder saying "I don't understand. He lost his bet. What is this?"

"I made his bet on me." replied Masolon with smile.

**The Feast**

The big hall inside Rivacheg palace was crowded more than usual. King Yaroglek -host of the feast- invited his lords and their relatives. Music played by the band to entertain the feast guests was mixed with people's noise. There were many men and women talking, whispering, and laughing.

Masolon entered the hall with wonder. It was the first time for the man who came from the steppes outside Calradia to enter such a venue. Masolon gazed at the golden chandelier the drooped form the high ceiling. Most of lords were standing with their king in the right compartment of the hall, and ladies were at the other compartment. Masolon couldn't help staring at three pretty young ladies standing by his left. One of them noticed him. She approached him smiling. Masolon's heart beats were accelerating.

"So, you must be the city champion." said the young lady. "I am Lady Tamar, sister of Lord Crahask."

"My name is Masolon m'lady." bowed Masolon. "It's such a pleasure."

"The pleasure is ours Masolon." said Tamar. "We all watched your strength and bravery in the tournament, but what I liked the most is what you did with Kradus. That sort of chivalry became rare these days."

Masolon's heart was beating hard again when Tamar smiled again before leaving. Masolon was not sure of what he exactly felt, but he surely felt good.

A stream of dreamy thoughts that flew in Masolon's mind was interrupted by a royal page who approached and said " Welcome sire, our king wants to honor you before starting supper, please come with me."

Masolon followed the page who led him to Yaroglek. The king gestured to all guests for attention. People noise paused, and music stopped. He called Masolon by name to show up before him and his lords. Although Masolon was used to be watched by many eyes in tournaments, he felt his heart pounding when he heard his name pronounced by Yaroglek. Masolon kept his composure, approached confidently to the king and bowed with respect before him.

"My loyal men know I don't think much of these tournaments." said Yaroglek. "By the end of the day, they are mere games, and not comparable to real battles. I always believe that only Vaegir soldiers who sacrifice their lives for their homeland are the only men worth honoring."

Many of the guests were astonished by Yaroglek's speech, who was supposed to honor the tournament champion. Masolon was not comfortable at all.

"However." continued Yaroglek "I saw today a true warrior, who has not only strength and mettle, but also nobility and honor. This is the reason behind this man's presence with us tonight. Despite he is not of noble birth, his actions were so."

Lord Ralcha, who was standing beside King Yaroglek, handed Masolon a purse full of golden coins.

"Now, you will be named as Masolon, the Champion of Rivacheg." said Yaroglek who was hanging a medallion over Masolon's neck. The guests shook the hall with their clapping at that moment. Masolon again bowed for the king in courtesy, leaving him with turning his back.

Music played again, and people were back to their chattering. Masolon stood by the side of the hall right compartment, following Tamar with his eyes. He didn't realize that he himself was watched by a young lord, until he found the lord standing by his side.

"I see you've got a good taste champion." said the lord with a cynical tone.

Masolon didn't like the lord's attitude, he just looked at him without replying.

"They say that Tamar personality is as charming as her pretty face." said the lord "They also that lord Harish has set his eyes on her a long time ago, and soon she will be betrothed to him, I mean to me."

Masolon looked at lord Harish with astonishment.

"Look too high, and you shall fall naive." said Harish with his finger on Masolon forehead.

Masolon pushed Harish's hand from his face. It was a moment of insanity when consequences are not considered.

"How dare you! You heap of filth!" cried Harish.

Silence struck the hall. People stopped blabbering. Players stopped their music. Yaroglek and everyone in the feast gazed at where the cry came from with astonishment and curiosity.

Masolon turned his back to Harish, leaving him in his rage.

"Halt! Halt if you are a man enough!" cried Harish.

Masolon didn't stop and continued his way to the hall door to leave. Harish with fury ran after Masolon, pulling him from his back and punching him in the face. The feast guests, shocked by Harish's act, watched Masolon holding his nose with one hand for a moment, checking it was not severely hurt.

"Scum like you are not to be here." said Harish "You pass here for a while and you think you can look up to what is out of your reach?!"

Masolon wanted badly to crush Harish's face with his fist, but it was not the right time and place.

"One day, you won't be hiding behind your title my lord." said Masolon with a yellow smile, before pushing the door and leaving the hall. Harish was apt to follow Masolon again.

"Enough Harish!" cried Yaroglek.

"Your highness, he showed disrespect to you and your company." said Harish.

"The only one who showed disrespect in this hall was you Harish." said Yaroglek with anger.

The king's words made Harish more angry, but he couldn't dare to answer back. The lord's eyes stared at the door from which Masolon left the hall. He wished he could go after him and cut his throat.

Ladies started whispering looking at Tamar. Nobody was sure about what happened and why it happened but they knew that the young lady was a reason for the quarrel by a mean or another. Tamar didn't feel comfortable in such a crowd. She begged to leave the feast and have some rest at her chamber in the upper floor.

"It seems that we have new victim of your charm Tamar." muttered one of the ladies in a sly smile.

Tamar pretended she heard nothing, but from inside, she knew it was true; she had a victim.

**The Wandering Ashik**

Masolon's head was filled with mixed thoughts. He was enraged for not answering back Harish's punch. Meanwhile, he couldn't help thinking of Tamar's charming smile.

He was in the wet parks of Rivacheg palace going to take his horse, when his ears caught some movement behind him. His wild instinct urged him to draw his sword and attack the threat coming from behind.

Masolon struck the intruder, but the latter blocked the strike with his sword. The noise of clashing blades roared the silence of the park, followed by a cry from the intruder "Hey! Hey! You stop! I am no enemy.".

Palace guards were alarmed. They held their weapons firmly to check what happened. The intruder gestured to them to stand down.

"Nothing to worry about my brothers, it's all right." said the intruder.

Masolon watched the intruder with caution. The intruder's face was dark-colored, with a thin moustache. He was a bit shorter than Masolon, wearing a Sarranid-like outfit.

"What is the matter with you?" said the intruder "Is this your way to say 'who is this'? I didn't know that you held your tongue in a scabbard."

"Who are you and what do you want?" said Masolon firmly.

"Slow down a bit my brother." said the intruder. " No need for such hostility. I am Nizar. Don't you remember me?".

"I know no Nizar."

"You don't know my name, but you must have seen me inside. I came here for the feast with the music band."

"Your too agile to be just a musician." said Masolon, referring to Nizar quick sword block.

"And you are too dignified to be just a tournament fighter." said Nizar.

Masolon was still suspicious of Nizar as a potential threat. Harish might be the one who sent him. He would never know.

"I saw all what happened in the hall." said Nizar "I was playing with the band of course, but I couldn't help watching what was going on. You have to admit that you deserve Harish's rage."

"What are you talking about, stranger? He was the one who started the..."

"She was the one who started." smiled Nizar, watching Masolon's reaction.

"She?" exclaimed Masolon.

"Come on my brother." said Nizar. "No need to deny. It was too obvious to me."

Masolon was going to say something to stop Nizar's blabber, but he didn't. Masolon was feeling strange. He was not able to name that feeling, but he knew that he was not the same person who came in. However, it was awkward for Masolon to discuss such topic with a complete stranger like Nizar.

"You grabbed too much attention in the feast my brother." said Nizar. "You should have seen how she was watching you."

"You! Stop that gibberish. You know better than me that you are talking about some sort of delusions."

"Why? Because she is a princess and you are...nobody?" said Nizar in a dramatic way.

"Stop it!" said Masolon, holding Nizar arm. Masolon looked around to make sure that no one was watching that.

"This is not the right time or place to have such a conversation." said Masolon who was leaving Nizar.

"May be." said Nizar. "But I assure you, you are having such a conversation with the right man, the master of ladies' hearts."

Masolon stopped, turned his head towards Nizar.

"You?" smiled Masolon cynically. "Yes, sure. I bet you are courting a whole bunch of ladies."

"Don't underestimate my skills, my brother." said Nizar. "The world is full of handsome and strong lads like you. Your bravery may take a lady's breath for a moment, but if you want to occupy her mind and invade her heart, you should have a sweet tongue."

Nizar was raised in the Sarranid Sultanate as a nomad. Roughened by harsh weather, hardened by bandits raids and inspired by the magic of desert, he evolved as a good warrior and an expert poet and musician. As a wandering ashik, he followed feasts wherever they were held.

Masolon suspicions towards Nizar were gradually fading, yet he didn't believe that Nizar's skills might do him any good. There were too much barriers and layers in Calradia than he was used to in his homeland. Life in the steppes was wild but simple. Clans were either good or bad, but there were no elites or knaves.

"Two things never stop in any realm of Calradia." said Nizar while he was riding his horse following Masolon outside Rivacheg palace. "Wars and tales."

Masolon himself heard many tales so far. Everybody he met had a story. Usually it was hard to prove what was true from fiction, and it was left for people's judgment.

"So, Tamar is out of reach because she is a princess." said Nizar in his dramatic manner. "Then behold, lord Masolon son of lord Salid approaches."

Masolon stopped his horse to watch Nizar's display.

"Betrayed by his cruel brother" continued Nizar "Lord Salid was killed, and his lands and property were taken by force. The only son of Salid, lord Masolon, was expelled by his uncle, and spent his life wandering, waiting for the right time to reclaim what was his."

"Not bad" smiled Masolon "It need some more crafting I think."

"I am just improvising. Perhaps if you tell me more about your story, It may inspire me to came out with a better one."

Nizar waited for an answer, but silence was the one he got.

"What is your story my brother?" said Nizar "What are you going after?"

"I am writing my own story now...my brother." said Masolon "Yet, sometimes I am surprised when I read what I write."


	3. Chapter 3: The War Band Grows

**A Vision of a Band**

It was a rare clear night on Rivacheg, which encouraged people of the city to show more activity than any other rainy night. The tavern was noisy when Rolf saw Masolon enter with Nizar. Masolon introduced the son of barons to the wandering nomad, but there was no much chemistry between the two. Nizar talked and ranted too much of himself and his romantic adventures across the six realms of Calradia. Rolf found it difficult to tolerate such bragging, and wondered why Masolon accepted that lad to join his company.

Masolon told Rolf and Nizar about Marnid who was seeking guards for his caravan, and that he -Masolon- looked for him in Sargoth, but unluckily he found Marnid had left to Yalen. Nizar suggested to write a letter to Marnid, informing him with their location in Rivacheg. Masolon had another plans in his mind that involved Firentis and his company. A murky vision of horse riders led by a warrior on his black horse was growing. Masolon could see the land flooded with bandits' blood. Rolf might have seen some blood in that vision, but the sight of purses full of golden coins was overwhelming, and the sound of 'Baron' before his name was music to his ears.

Masolon told his two companions that he would leave by next dawn heading Jayek, the Nordic village, and both confirmed they would join him in his journey.

The three lads went up the stairs to have some sleep in their chambers in the first floor. After a while, Masolon woke up on hearing a familiar yawning voice. He stepped out of his room to find two men helping a severely injured young lad to reach his chamber. Bandages wrapped the injured man's shoulders, arms, left leg and most of the face. The two helpers laid the injured lad gently to his bed. Masolon approached him to confirm his doubts.

"Alayen?" asked Masolon.

On hearing his name, the injured lad slowly turned his hidden face towards Masolon.

"Masolon?" exclaimed Alayen in a very weak voice.

After Dranton had brutally crashed into Alayen with his horse, the later survived with a sort of miracle, but his body was severely devastated. A physician from Rivacheg came into the arena to examine Alayen. He found some bones crushed, and told Alayen that his limbs would never be the same as before again.

Despite the tension in their first encounter in the arena, Masolon felt sorry for Alayen's miserable condition.

"I wish I was conscious when you blew that bastard." said Alayen in his weak voice. "Now I am crippled. I lost everything."

"What did that physician know to say you would never be back again?" said Masolon. "Listen. I know a veteran surgeon in Shariz. He must see you."

Although most of Alayen's face was hidden, but despair was obvious from his eyes.

"I appreciate your concern Masolon, but I am afraid it is of no use now." said Alayen.

"You have nothing more to lose if you go." said Masolon "I will send you with a friend of mine tomorrow."

**Need or Greed**

Masolon decided to send Alayen with Nizar to Jeremus, while Rolf would accompany Masolon to Jayek to meet Firentis. Masolon didn't wish for any probable conflict between Nizar and Firentis. The latter dedicated his life to a noble cause for redemption, while Nizar never stopped bragging about his heroic victories with ladies' hearts.

Masolon told Rolf about Firentis and his knights, and how they rescued him in the Nordic Valley.

"I feel a bit confused Masolon." said Rolf "This Firentis asked you to join him and do the same thing you are aspiring to. Why didn't you join him?"

"Firentis is doing what he is doing for personal reasons. He is seeking salvation for himself." said Masolon "I believe in something Rolf; each one of us exists for a purpose. We have different gifts and knowledge, because each one has a different purpose. Jeremus, Borcha, Marnid, Firentis, even Lezalit..each one is distinguished with something to fulfill his purpose."

"What about us? What about you? What are you _distinguished_ with?" said Rolf who stopped his horse. "You think you are destined to lead us, because you are _distinguished_ with your pure soul?"

Masolon stopped his horse as well, looked at Rolf's eyes to explore what was beneath.

"I don't believe so much in coincidence, do you Rolf?" said Masolon.

Rolf looked confused and tried to see with Masolon's eyes to get what he was trying to reach, but there was nothing obvious to Rolf. Masolon saw Rolf's query, and felt his muddle, a notion that made him stronger and more sure.

"Few months ago, I decided to abandon the land I was born in to find a meaning for my life." said Masolon. "For some reason, I survived the Great Desert to reach Calradia. For some reason I met people who led me to this very current moment with you Rolf."

Masolon held his sword saying "I know no other way to make a living except with this blade. We shall earn our gold with our swords, but our motives should be out of need, not greed."

Masolon returned his sword back to its scabbard, and approached Rolf with his horse.

"What distinguishes us is our direction Rolf." leaned Masolon towards Rolf. "If you feel uncomfortable with this direction, you have the free will to join back your old friends who _raised _you up, or those who killed your family."

Masolon moved with his horse away from Rolf. Rolf remained still in his place looking at the ground.

"You always have a point Masolon." said Rolf "But sometimes I feel I am not quite sure of understanding your plans."

"There are no plans." said Masolon. "We just do what we are purposed to do."

"Here we go again." smiled Rolf, who pulled his horse bridle. "I wish one day I wouldn't regret joining you."

The two lads resumed their journey. Although Masolon made his best to avoid the deadly Nordic valley, he couldn't help keeping his senses alert till he saw Jayek at sight.

The village was very quiet at night when Masolon and Rolf entered. All house doors were shut. No sound was heard but occasional barks of some dogs. The two fellows could barely see their way in that half-mooned night.

Suddenly, four knights appeared from four directions surrounding Masolon and Rolf.

"Stand down fellows, I am Masolon, and this my friend Rolf, we are looking for Firentis." said Masolon with a quiet voice.

"You came back Masolon." shouted a voice from behind Masolon. It was Firentis in his plated armor.

"I believe that since you have left me, you looked in your soul and found those sins you need to purify yourself from." said Firentis. "And now, you are ready for your salvation."

"Not exactly good man." replied Masolon. "I am here for _your _salvation."

Firentis was astonished by Masolon's reply, but the latter had an interesting offer.

**The Great Redemption**

Masolon, Rolf, Firentis and four of the latter's knights sat by a fire near an outpost built by Firentis and his company, to warn the village of any incoming threats.

"Bandits who deserve the taste of your blade are filling Calradia." said Masolon to Firentis. "I heard of villages that starved because of bandits who raided either caravans going to nearby markets, or the villages itself. A merchant once asked me to led guards for his caravans. Now I am thinking of this offer differently; I see it as an opportunity to hunt down bandits and thugs in many places during our wandering with the caravan in the realms of Calradia. If you and your knights join us in this Firentis, you may spare thousands of innocent souls. This will be the greatest redemption you can attain."

Firentis did not look so sure.

"What you are saying is good Masolon, yet if you beg my pardon, I am afraid you are using us."

Rolf and even Firentis himself expected a denial from Masolon.

"That's right Firentis." said Masolon without hesitation. "I am using you."

The sharp reply surprised Rolf and confused Firentis.

"I am using you, Rolf, me and anyone else I meet fitting for this task." continued Masolon. "This notion will grow Firentis. I will look for more fine warriors in every arena and every tavern who will join me in this mission. But men with souls like yours Firentis are hard to find in this land. I wish I can _use_ you in what you are meant to do."

"What about Jayek?" asked Firentis. "We shall not leave it vulnerable to bandits' raids."

"Of course not." replied Masolon. "Remember what I said about training Jayek's peasants to defend themselves?"

"You said you would help us in this." said Firentis.

"I will." said Masolon. "And you shall join me. Agree?"

Firentis looked at his knights before returning back to Masolon.

"I can't accept this before we all agree." said Firentis. "We will find a shelter for you two to sleep in. Tomorrow morning, I shall tell you what our decision is."

"I am sure you will do the right thing." said Masolon. "Think of the many lives you can save while you are making up your mind."

Firentis and his companions left Masolon and Rolf and waited for their other patrolling knights to come back. Firentis was not sure whether it would be a good decision to trust an acquaintance like Masolon or not. To him Masolon seemed to have a vision, but it was not easy for Firentis to leave Jayek unprotected. On the other side, he thought -as Masolon said- of many other villages like Jayek, whose lords had left them helpless under the mercy of raiders and thieves.

By sunrise, Masolon was anticipating Firentis's answer. He went up a small hill at the end of Jayek, watching that village waking up. To him, time was too sluggish to bear. A sight of two fencing kids with wooden sticks drew a smile on his face. He wondered which kid might defy that life one day, and forsake his home as he -Masolon- had done before.

Masolon's smile faded when he spotted Firentis coming alone from the other end of the village. Masolon didn't feel it a good sign. He waited for Firentis to come up the hill to receive his decision.

"I talked with my seven fellows." said Firentis "One thing we agreed upon before that we would never split, and we should remain as a one party. The quest you talk about is big, but this is not my concern. I shall not hesitate to slay those evil creatures anywhere, but I am not sure of your motives Masolon. You might be seeking glory, revenge...I don't know, but you know what? I don't care. I shall join you Masolon, as well as my knights, to wipe all wicked souls, even if it is yours."

"You are welcome, good fellow." smiled Masolon.

"Preparing those peasants to be warriors won't be an easy task. If I felt them not ready to fight I have to stay with them." said Firentis.

"I don't want them be mercenaries, I want them know how to defend themselves." said Masolon. "When shall we begin?"

**Jayek Heroes**

Masolon believed in the innate instinct of every human to defend himself. He himself was never _trained_ in his homeland, he was molded by the steppes and its harsh life in which the word 'mercy' didn't exist and only the strong _deserved_ to survive. However, in Jayek he realized that not all people were the same. Training peasants was harder than he thought.

Every day, Masolon gathered all men who saw themselves capable of carrying weapons. Most of those weapons were farming tools, and few had spears or swords.

"Your scythes and farming forks can be deadly weapons." said Masolon to his new _students. _"This depends on how and where you strike them."

Rolf and some of Firentis's knights helped Masolon in handling those recruits, whose numbers exceeded thirty men. It was a race against time as Masolon had a tournament to catch in Shariz.

"This training should never take more than four weeks." said Masolon to Rolf after three days. "We have to exert the most efforts we can."

Every day, Firentis was watching the progress of Jayek peasants in melee fighting and handling weapons. After two weeks, few of Jayek youth became ready to defend their village. Masolon and Rolf sparred with those whose skills became mature as fighters to refine them.

Away from the training, Rolf proposed to construct guard towers at the four corners of the village. Masolon and Firentis approved the initiative and the latter took the responsibility of that task, leaving Masolon and Rolf to focus in his training mission.

The village didn't witness so much activity a long time ago. People who didn't take part in the melee training joined Rolf in building the guard towers. Even some recruits worked in those towers, after their weary exercises.

Guard towers were obsolete without archers. Masolon chose some fellows who didn't excel so much in the melee fighting, and allocated a special time for them to develop their archery proficiency. He tried as much as he could to transfer both his instincts -that were crafted in his homeland- and his acquired skills from Lezalit's training.

Four weeks passed since Masolon and Rolf arrived in Jayek. Firentis and those who worked in building the towers were celebrating the end of construction works. Firentis climbed up one of the towers, waved to the crowd below and looked at the other side of the village. Masolon and Rolf who led the new group of Jayek fighters, were marching towards the celebrating crowd. All inhabitants of the village were silent watching the magnificent scene.

"Behold Jayek Heroes!" cried Masolon with passion that thrilled the crowd and made them cheer with elation. He fluidly went up the tower beside Firentis

"All of you folks are heroes!" cried Masolon to the excited crowd. "You showed to yourselves before anyone else your true metal. Let all the bastards know that from now on, Jayek is a fortress protected by lions!"

Firentis was glad for how the whole matter ended up, he held Masolon's hand saying to him with gladness "You and your friend Rolf are the real heroes."

"So? One company now?" said Masolon to Firentis.

"One company." replied Firentis nodding his head. "One party."

Rolf was impressed with the whole scene. He watched Masolon with a smile. Only at that very moment, Rolf realized what Masolon was distinguished with.

**Drums of War**

Sun heat started to languish with dusk on Shariz. A gentle breeze wobbled the red dates on palms inside the Sultan palace. The great gate opened slowly with cracking noise letting in a horde of mamelukes escorting young Emir Ayyam, son of Emir Nuwas. The young emir dismounted, hurried up the stairs to the main hall door. The Sarranid guards cleared the way with courtesy to the hasty prince. The Sultan had summoned the Sarranid emirs for an urgent meeting, and Ayyam was worried of showing up late.

"Great sultan, I beg your pardon." said Ayyam with respect when he entered the meeting.

"Emir Ayyam." said sultan Hakim. "Why I am not seeing Emir Nuwas?"

"He is sending his apologies to you, great sultan." said Ayyam with grief. "His wife, Lady Isna, is extremely sick."

"Please tell him my best wishes for his virtuous wife." said Hakim. "Listen. There is a clever Swadian physician who lives here in Shariz. They say this man is a wizard. I will send him to Emir Nuwas at the castle of Weyyah."

"We are grateful to your kindness, great sultan." said Ayyam.

The sultan gestured to Ayyam to be seated, then to Emir Hamezan to proceed with his talk.

"Our spies near Chelez spotted a legion of four thousand Rhodoks marching by the sea, and this legion is possible now near Jamiche." said Emir Hamezan.

"This is strange." said Emir Ghanawa. "Rhodoks rarely go aggressive towards our borders, and most of time they are at war with the Swadians."

"And what are these forces?" asked Emir Mundhalir. "Are Rhodoks so stupid that they think they may threaten us with these four thousand men?"

"Our troops here in Shariz and Weyyah are enough to crush this Rhodok legion." said Hakim. "Right Ayyam?"

"You are right, sultan." replied Ayyam nodding his head. "Weyyah mamelukes are ready to strike at your orders."

"My sultan, do you really think that Rhodoks will dare to siege Shariz with such troops?" asked Mundhalir. "I believe we should wait to verify the information we have before making any hostile action."

"I might wait for verifications Emir Mundhalir," said Hakim, 'if didn't know that Arwa was sighted with the Rhodoks side."

The emirs hummed with wonder after they heard the name.

"Yes, Arwa," said Hakim, 'that wicked witch should have been executed."

"Arwa herself knows that it is suicide to wage war against us with only four thousand soldiers." said Mundhalir. "I beg you my sultan, we have to verify this news. I strongly believe it is foisted by somebody to trigger such a war."

All the emirs paused and stared at Mundhalir after what he said.

"Perhaps suicide is what she seeks." said Hamezan cynically. "After she had lost her husband, her mind became confused."

Some of the emirs laughed for what Hamezan said. Hakim remained silent, watching his emirs till they knocked off.

"And whom do you think is behind this?" asked Hakim slowly and quietly.

"I am not accusing anybody my sultan." said Mundhalir. "It may be somebody outside the Sultanate who wants to distract us with this fake news. It may be somebody inside who has some _aspirations _from this war."

Mundhalir's words shocked the audience. Sultan Hakim was not moved by any reaction either from Mundhalir or the rest of emirs. His eyes were deep as a well.

"Emir Hamezan." said Hakim. "You lead the troops of Shariz and Weyyah. Emir Ayyam will join you."

The sultan's brief statement concluded the meeting firmly. Emirs stood up the moment the sultan rose and left the meeting hall. Mundhalir was nervous looking at Hamezan, the latter answered back with a yellow smile.

"What about the tournament?" wondered one of the emirs in the hall. "Shall we postpone it?"

"We don't want to elicit any mess or panic here." replied Hamezan firmly. "Our battle is far away from the city walls. The tournament will be held after two days as planned."

**Back to Shariz**

Jeremus shooed some birds from his open window. He stood to enjoy the breeze that started to flow in Shariz. He gazed out at the end of the street to recognize an approaching shadow of a familiar horse rider.

"Masolon!" cried Jeremus, before stepping outside at the door of his house.

Jeremus was astounded as Masolon didn't return back to Shariz alone. Masolon entered the city in a company of nine horse riders; Rolf, Firentis and seven Swadian knights.

"I missed lunch I know." smiled Masolon, looking at the falling sun. "But I didn't miss supper. I have some fellows to introduce to you."

Masolon introduced Rolf and Firentis to Jeremus, the latter invited them in his house. The seven knights begged to leave to seek shelter in the city.

"I heard bits of your story from your raving friend." said Jeremus to Masolon, referring to Nizar. "It seems that your past four months were packed."

"You mean my past _nineteen_ weeks." corrected Masolon with a smile.

Masolon narrated all what happened to him since he left Shariz heading Jelkala for his first tournament. Firentis and even Rolf were interested in Masolon's tale, as the bald lad was curious about Lezalit and his story.

"Nine weeks ago, I received a message from Marnid, the merchant." said Jeremus. "It is for you."

Masolon asked Jeremus to read it for him. The message asked Masolon to come to Sargoth to lead the guards of Marnid's caravan. Masolon asked the physician to write a message in return informing Marnid that he was back. For his astonishment, Masolon knew from Jeremus that Nizar had already did.

"What about Alayen?" asked Masolon.

"Your injured fellow?" said Jeremus. "You sent him in an ugly condition. He was like a pile of broken bones."

"Can he walk again on his broken leg?" asked Masolon.

"I said he was in an ugly condition." smiled Jeremus. "But it wasn't the _most_ ugly for me to deal with. I restored his bones to its normal positions, yet it will take months for him to walk as a normal person."

A noise of thundering hooves outside Jeremus's house was heard. The door was then knocked violently. Masolon, Rolf and Firentis hauled their swords.

"Jeremus!" cried a Sarranid soldier. "Emir Ayyam summons you."

The physician was stepping towards the door, but Masolon hurried before him and opened it to find three Sarranid soldiers standing by the door.

"What's the matter soldier?" asked Masolon firmly. "You almost whacked the door."

"Come with us if you are Jeremus." said the soldier. "Step back if you are not."

Masolon looked behind the soldier. He found twenty armored mounted mamelukes. A decent young man dismounted and approached Masolon. It was Emir Ayyam whom Masolon had never seen before.

"Away soldiers! We are not here to arrest him!" cried Ayyam.

The soldiers opened the way for the young emir. Masolon put his sword back to its scabbard, letting the emir in the house. Jeremus welcomed the unexpected honorable guest in his humble house.

"Forgive my soldiers Jeremus." said Ayyam. "Sometimes they go too far."

"Never mind my lord." said Jeremus. "You didn't have to come yourself. You could just send an errand to me and I shall hurry at once."

Ayyam sighed with grief before saying "I come myself because I need your help awfully."

Ayyam described Lady Isna's condition to Jeremus to know if he could help his mother in her desperate condition. Jeremus asked him not to worry and that he would pack quickly to travel to Weyyah with Ayyam and his horde.

Masolon watched the courtly manners of Ayyam and recalled what he encountered in Rivacheg from Harish's side. Masolon believed that many men were lords by titles, but few behaved as genuine ones.

"The sword you hold is a Nordic War Sword, isn't it?" asked Ayyam.

Masolon was impressed with the emir's sharp eye.

"It's a good sword." said Masolon. "It attains the balance of power, speed and reach."

"This is interesting." continued the emir, "You doesn't look like a Nord, but your sword look so. Also, I see there a Khergit bow and a steel shield. I have never seen such combination." The emir pointed to Masolon's items that were put at the corner, then he pulled his giant curved sword slowly from his scabbard.

"This is a Heavy Sabre." said Masolon. "The most powerful Sarranid sword. Yet, you can't use a shield with it, as you need both arms to strike with this heavy weapon."

For a moment Masolon felt grateful for Lezalit. Although the former was not comfortable with his pledge to the latter, Masolon couldn't deny that Lezalit taught him a lot.

"You are right." said Ayyam. "But having a strong arm like yours, you can use it on your horse. Sarranid cavalry sweep their opponents with such a weapon."

Jeremus appeared after packing his tools and equipments. He gestured to Ayyam that he was ready to go.

"My house is at your disposal Masolon." said Jeremus to Masolon. "Make sure that my books and tools are not touched."

Ayyam and Jeremus left to join the emir's horde. Masolon followed them to the house door.

"Masolon." said Ayyam who mounted his horse. "I shall remember this name."

The Sarranid horses galloped again, flying out of sight. Rolf stood beside Masolon whose mind sank in an ocean of thoughts.

"You are getting involved with lords in each realm you go." said Rolf "Be cautious my friend."

**Xerina**

Before Jeremus had left, he gave Rolf a small amount of silver to bet on Masolon in the next tournament. Rolf himself liked the idea and decided to do the same. Masolon felt flattered with Rolf's action.

"I won't participate in this tournament," said Rolf, 'just to clear the way for you to win."

"You know I will win if I face you." smiled Masolon. "I guess I will bet on myself too."

Masolon went to the arena to look for Dranton or Kradus, but their names were not enlisted in the tournament. However, he saw a usual face in such occasions.

"You are early this time." said Xerina with her cynical smile that made her face looked to Masolon as a snake face.

"When your master shall appear?" asked Masolon roughly.

"Watch your tone big lad." said Xerina. "I work for him, not for you."

"I hope your _work _pleases him." smiled Masolon in a provocative manner.

For the first time since he met her, he never saw Xerina nervous. Her sly smile disappeared and her eyebrows crossed. Masolon hated nothing like Xerina's smile, he was glad he angered her at last.

"You bastard!" said Xerina with fury. "Your an asset that belongs to Lezalit. This is the only reason that makes you safe from my hands. You think you are invincible, aren't you? I shall I make you cry of pain when I have the chance."

Masolon ignored what Xerina said. He was delighted with her anger and did not wish to spoil the moment. He turned his back leaving her in her fever. Xerina kept following him.

"I know that one day you will quit." said Xerina. "I told Lezalit the moment I saw you, but he didn't listen to me. I know you wish to be released from your pledge. Trust me, once you are released, nothing will stop me."

Masolon looked at her with a careless face.

"My pledge is a matter between me and your _master_." said Masolon stone-faced. "It is nothing of your concern."

Masolon wished that Xerina was a man so he can blow her with his fist. He hated her more than he hated his shackle to Lezalit. At least, Masolon was indebted to Lezalit for what he had learnt.

Masolon left Xerina and went up the lobby that looked on the arena field. He leaned to a wooden fence watching the vacuity that would be filled next day with thrilled crowd. He could see himself standing in the middle of the field, listening to chants of his name. He tested that before. He liked that before. Yet that was not what he was pursuing at that time, not any more.


	4. Chapter 4: The Sarranid Nights

**The Snake**

The sun heat didn't prevent people of Shariz from flocking to the arena to watch the tournament. Firentis was almost the only person who was walking in the streets in the other direction. Firentis was a man who spent most of his life outside the city frontiers in the battlefield. To him, fighting was a necessity to defend himself and his land, but it was not something he enjoyed. He never understood how the commoners anticipated those tournaments with all the violence they comprised -even if that violence was from battles with wooden weapons.

Firentis was looking for a man referred to in Shariz as the Guild Master, but Firentis did not imagine that finding that man in the particular day of the tournament would be so frustrating. Firentis was not used to the Sarranid heat. His forehead was sweaty, he was thirty and exhausted. He rushed to a well he saw in his way, and showered his head with water. He opened his wet eyes to see a Sarranid well-dressed man standing beside him.

"You are a Vaegir, aren't you?" asked the well-dressed man.

"No, I am a Swadian." replied Firentis.

"You are almost melting." said the well-dressed man. "What you are doing here?"

"I am looking for the man they call here the Guild Master." said Firentis. "They say he is looking for fighters."

"He is standing before you stranger." said the well-dressed man, the Guild Master.

Meanwhile in other place, Rolf was in the arena watching the first tier of the tournament. Masolon's fight had not started at that time.

"Rolf!" said a female voice. It was Xerina who came to sit next to him. Rolf was sure he had never seen her before.

"How do you know my name?" asked Rolf with wonder.

"My profession requires following tournaments everywhere." replied Xerina with an unusual sweet smile. "What are you doing here? I mean among the crowd?"

If Masolon saw how Xerina was talking to Rolf, he would swear that she was somebody else. Her face was innocent, her smile was pleasant. For a man like Rolf, whose last conversation with a woman was with his mother before she was burnt alive when he was a child, Xerina was the prettiest lady that addressed him.

"Xerina is my name." said Lezalit's assistant.

Rolf's eyebrows crossed on hearing the name. He recalled what Masolon told him about Lezalit's sly assistant, but he didn't know which to believe; what his ears heard from his fellow, or what his eyes saw from Xerina. For a moment Rolf's virile instincts wished that his fellow was wrong.

Xerina draw a surprised face with her eyebrows raised.

"You seem you don't like my name." said Xerina with her _new _smile.

Rolf felt a bit confused to handle that situation. He looked up at nowhere in the sky considering his next words.

"I know you know Masolon." said Rolf slowly. "I know that things are not...good between you both."

"I am a spiritual person Rolf." Xerina shrugged her shoulders. "I believe that some souls are matching, others are not. I guess that Masolon and I are from those others."

Rolf liked what Xerina said. He enjoyed chattering with her as a sort of change in his tiring wandering life.

The arena drums interrupted their conversation, announcing the next fight. It was Masolon's turn to show up in the field. Rolf and Xerina watched him knocking off his opponents, one after the other, tier after tier. It was before dusk when Masolon reached the final round.

"This final should have been between you both." said Xerina. "I don't understand why you are not there on the field."

Rolf smiled without a reply. Xerina continued "You are not scared of him, aren't you?"

"Scared?" Rolf was irritated. "Of course not. He is my friend, and I can't imagine me hurting him."

Xerina could feel the mild heat of ember she started. She knew that she should leave that ember and it would grow to a glowing fire. She was satisfied at that point of her conversation as Rolf was dragged to her trap easier than she thought. Xerina begged to leave expressing her wishes to meet again.

Rolf followed Xerina with his eyes. Part of his mind told him that she was a snake, the other part told him that she was right. Rolf hated thinking of people's intensions. He wished that his blade could always answer his questions.

The flowing thoughts inside Rolf's mind stopped suddenly. He saw Masolon entering the field on a horse for the final duel. Rolf stared at the opponent who had just entered the field.

"Nizar?!" exclaimed Rolf.

**The Fellows' Duel**

Once Nizar arrived at Shariz escorting injured Alayen, he sought Jeremus's house till he found it. As Jeremus hadn't seen him before, Nizar held a note from Masolon, asking to take care of Alayen's severe injuries, hoping for Jeremus to succeed in what the physician of Rivacheg had failed. Jeremus welcomed Nizar to stay but the latter vanished and was never seen again till Masolon and his company met Jeremus.

Before Jeremus departed with Ayyam, Masolon had asked Jeremus about Nizar's place, but had found no answer. He decided that he would take care of that issue after the tournament.

The sight of Nizar on his horse astonished both Masolon and Rolf. Masolon didn't face Nizar in any previous round of the tournament, Rolf, on the other hand, was busy twiddling with Xerina. Masolon approached Nizar while still on his horse, so that nobody could hear them talking.

"What are you doing, Nizar?" asked Masolon.

"Helping you write your story." smiled Nizar.

"This is awkward Nizar." said Masolon. "I don't want to hurt you."

Drums beat interrupted their conversation. The scene was thrilling to the crowd as they thought that the two contenders were exchanging some harsh words before their fight.

Rolf was shocked at first when he saw Nizar in the field, but then he strangely felt excited.

"Come on Masolon." muttered Rolf to himself. "Teach this noisy fellow a lesson."

The two horses went apart then they stood opposite to each other. Each horse rider held his huge wooden pole, waiting for a mark from the tournament master to begin.

A horn was blown. The two horses rushed to each other. It was the first time for Masolon to feel confused in one of his encounters. His hands were never shaken, and his will never hesitated before. The two horses were coming much closer to each other. At the very last moment, Masolon's mixed thoughts faded away, his eyes saw Nizar's pole charging towards his trunk. Masolon's decision was a bit later than Nizar's. The former bent his body while charging to evade the latter's heavy blow. Masolon's pole smashed the air beside Nizar, but the wandering ashik's pole hit Masolon's left arm.

Rolf was alarmed with the blow that Masolon had received and in the same time worried about his bet. In a place among the crowd nearby, Xerina was astonished, yet a bit delighted.

Masolon was to cry out of pain, but he kept his composure. He knew that Lezalit's snake was watching, and he didn't wish to make her gloat over his loss; a thought that enraged him.

Masolon ignored his numbed arm. He turned slowly with his horse, looking with fury at Nizar who in turn was opposite to him again. The two fellows roared, charging without any hesitation from both sides. The noise of a crushed wooden pole was heard. One man was down on the floor. It was Nizar. The crowd cheer thundered.

Masolon dismounted to check for Nizar. The latter was lying on his back coughing. Masolon waited for Nizar to speak. The Sarranid opened his eyes, smiling then laughing in an awkward excited manner.

"That was an incredible blow." ranted Nizar while coughing. "I almost felt my chest exploding."

It was hard for Masolon to understand Nizar's reaction. He waited till the ashik's delirium stopped.

"If I would follow you, I just wanted to be sure…" said Nizar, still lying on the floor.

"Be sure of what?" said Masolon.

"That you deserve to be followed." said Nizar.

"You are a crazy fellow." said Masolon.

**The Guild Master's Quest**

It was a hot night in Shariz that made most of the city people wander in the streets, eager to meet some breeze by incidence. Masolon, Rolf and Nizar walked towards the tavern. Nizar was telling them the story of his affair with a Sarranid lady during the month he spent in Shariz. Masolon accustomed himself to Nizar's prattle, but Rolf didn't succeed to do so, he was still facing problems in tolerating the ashik's cackling.

"Firentis!" cried Masolon when he saw his Swadian companion standing by the tavern door. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"On the contrary, I did expect to see you here." said Firentis.

It was the first for Firentis to meet Nizar. The four fellows entered the tavern and found themselves a table to sit by.

"I found the man we were looking for." said Firentis.

"The Guild Master?" asked Masolon.

The Guild Master told Firentis that many caravans heading or leaving Shariz were raided by a group of desert bandits, especially in the previous two months. Tales of few survivors from bandits' attacks endorsed the Guild Master's belief that those raids were waged by the same group of bandits near the northern borders of Shariz. Nobody knew their exact location. No one knew their exact number. One said they were fifteen, another said they were twenty five.

"Usually desert bandits are mounted." said Nizar.

"We may need more men." said Rolf. "We are only eleven."

"Four more men and we shall proceed in this mission." said Masolon. "They should be good on horsebacks. I have already met two skillful Sarranid lads in the tournament. I and Firentis shall go find them tomorrow morning. Rolf and Nizar shall recruit two or three more men for us."

"Sarranids are the best cavalry in Calradia my brother." smiled Nizar.

"Swadians are invincible on horsebacks my friend." said Firentis to Nizar.

"Then we are lucky to have both in our band." said Masolon to stop a probable argument between Nizar and Firentis. Masolon knew from Lezalit that both of Swadians and Sarranids had never been at war with each other, so no one could affirm which faction had the best cavalry in Calradia.

"So Masolon, after we recruit those men for our band; what's our plan to find those bandits?"

Masolon thought for a while. His band needed a man like Borcha. Locating those bandits would not be a problem if he was there.

"What did the Guild Master tell you about our reward?" Masolon asked Firentis. "How much is it?"

"I thought money is not our issue Masolon." Firentis crossed his eyebrows.

"I am not asking for what you think of." said Masolon. "We need some gold for our preparations."

"Preparations?" asked Rolf. "What's in your mind Masolon?"

Rolf didn't receive an answer, but he realized from Masolon's eyes that a plot is devised inside the mind of the foreigner from the steppes.

"We may not find those bandits." said Masolon after moments of silence. "But they can find us."

Rolf was confused as usual, Firentis rubbed his chin trying to figure out what Masolon hinted to, while Nizar was smiling as he almost understood Masolon's idea.

**Hunter and Prey**

Three days passed since the tournament of Shariz. The sun heat was at its peak, turning the desert outside the city into a flaming hell. The horses that pulled their heavy carts forward were exhausted, and the riders were flooded in their sweat. It was a Sarranid caravan that comprised four huge carts; each cart needed three horses to pull, and the whole caravan was guarded by only four horsemen.

"What a day to die in!" muttered one of the guards. His voice was loud enough to be heard by another guard next to him.

"You didn't say so when you see the gold, right?" smiled the other guard.

"All right, I was blinded by the bloody gold!" said the first guard in a nervous manner. "Now I see blades coming to cut my flesh. Can't you see brother? Look again! Horses can hardly move with their massive cargo, and their riders...look at their riders! These useless naive nomads with their filthy rags and turbans! They don't even carry wooden clubs! I shouldn't have accepted that man's offer."

The other two guards could hear what the first guard said to the second. Alarmed by the by the notion raised by the first guard, they started looking at each other in a sort of worry, inspecting the caravan with their eyes as if they were surprised by its sight at that moment. The lading they convoyed was unmistakably weighty protected by only four men; a prey that would entice every bandit in that kindled desert.

"The Guild Master you mean?" asked the second guard.

"He was the one who hired me also." said the third guard. "He asserted that a supportive band would join us outside Shariz."

"I was told the same." said the fourth guard. "But not by the Guild Master."

The other three guards looked at him with wonder, before one of them cried at an approaching sandy cloud arising from hooves of galloping horses.

"Are those our hunters or helpers?" asked the second guard with worry.

The closing horde didn't slow down. It was obvious they were charging.

"They are very close now!" cried one of the nomads who drive the caravan with their horses.

"No time to fright you bedouin!" cried the first guard with nervousness. "Make yourself and us a favor. Grab a weapon, you and your useless folks! Defend yourselves!"

"I am not frightened; I am glad they are close." said the nomad.

The guards were astounded by the nomad's confident voice tone.

"This means that they can't escape from us." smiled the nomad.

The guards were shocked when they saw him rip his rags revealing an armored suit, and unwrap his turban revealing a helmet. It was Nizar.

"Your supportive band has arrived lads." it was Masolon's voice crying. The useless nomads suddenly turned out to be armored knights and horsemen. It was Masolon and his company.

"Come on Sarranids!" hollered Masolon, hauling his sword. "Let those bastards take nothing but the taste of your blades!"

According to Masolon's plan with the Guild Master two days before, the latter recruited three men to escort an alleged caravan, without knowing that their _supportive band _was the nomads who drove the heavy caravan. Masolon recruited two lads. As the four carts required twelve horses to pull; he had to reveal to one of them the whole plot to pretend as a nomad with Masolon's company, while the other was recruited as the fourth caravan guard.

The fake nomads quickly cut the ligaments that tied their horses with the heavy carts. It was a dramatic shift in the guards' morale, as they felt that tides were turning in favor for their side. They charged with Masolon's company roaring like lions.

Desert bandits were confused on the other side. They were seventeen raiders that had followed the caravan, thinking it would be an easy prey after slaying its four guards. The sight of the fifteen charging horsemen stunned those bandits for few moments, which was sufficient for Masolon and his band to rule that battle.

Nizar's flew with his horse into the raiders' side, chopping one's head with his scimitar. Masolon blew one other bandit in his abdomen, leaving his trunk almost sliced into two parts. A third bandit was slain by a lethal strike in his heart from Rolf. Three more bandits fell dead by swords of the Sarranid guards. Six bandits were down at first contact between both sides.

"Swadians!" cried Firentis at his knights. "Show them how true knights fight!"

Firentis and his knights charged in a wedge-like formation, with Firentis at its head. The already weakened bandits' side was shattered by such charge. Blades slashed into necks and hearts. The Swadian knights' charge was decisive.

Only three bandits were remaining, two of them surrendered as they became on foot after losing their horses. The one remaining bandit chased the wind with his horse to flee. Masolon picked his bow and arrow.

"Shoot his horse Masolon!" cried Rolf.

It was a familiar scene to Masolon. It was five years ago when he was chasing some bandits in his village. One of them was escaping with his horse when Masolon pulled the string of his nomad bow and unleashed a deadly arrow.

"His horse Masolon!"

Rolf's repeated cry woke Masolon up from his memories. The man from the steppes pulled the string of his Khergit bow, an arrow was unleashed, one man fell down with an arrow in his head.

**War on Raid**

The Guild Master was having his supper at his house when the door was knocked.

"They've captured the bandits sir!" cried a boy behind the door.

The Guild Master rushed into the door to find a little boy, who was hardly taking his breath as if he had run a long distance.

"Who have captured them?" the Guild Master was excited.

"A band of warriors," replied the boy, who was exhausted but excited "led by a man they call Masolon."

A smile was drawn on the man's face.

"Where are they?" asked the man.

"Just follow the noise sir." replied the boy. "People of Shariz are gathered in the main plaza."

Delighted by the news, the man threw a couple of coins to the boy who skipped in the streets with joy. The man put on one of his fine Sarranid outfits, and hurried towards the main plaza of Shariz. As he approached, he was hearing a crowd roar that resembled that of the tournament. Curiosity was moving his feet faster till he found a thrilling scene.

The two bandits who surrendered to Masolon were tied at the top of two high wooden poles so that everybody in the plaza could see them. The Guild Master gazed to spot Masolon or Firentis or anyone else of his company but he could not. The plaza was packed with men, women and children celebrating the victory over those evil thugs. The reaction of Shariz people reflected their suffering in the previous period from those raiders.

People who could recognize the Guild Master cleared the way for him to the centre of celebration in the plaza.

"Your men had done it, Mas'r!" hollered a voice from the crowd.

The crowd started to cheer for the Guild Master who walked towards the wooden pole waving to them. A man hurried to the Guild Master holding his hand with excitement.

"I am the one who have seen them Mas'r!" cried the excited man. "I have seen them!"

"You've seen whom?" smiled the Guild Master who patted the man's shoulder to calm him down.

"Masolon!" the man shouted although the Guild Master was just in front of him. "I saw him and his band of war."

"Band of war?" the Guild Master wondered.

"Yes, yes." said the man. "I was standing right here in the plaza when the band came. They were a dozen of horsemen, may be more, I am not sure. One of them -their leader I guess- is a tall black-haired man called Masolon. He asked me to help them tie the captured bastards to the poles. I asked whom they were. He told me that Shariz had just waged war on raid, and they were the band of war against raid."

"Sure my friend." said the Guild Master to the excited man, before he looked to the crowd waving for them to calm down so they can hear him.

"We've lost many brothers and sisters because of these bastards." shouted the Guild Master, pointing to the tied raiders. "Our realm is currently in truce with Khergits and Rhodoks, in peace with Vaegirs, Nords and Swadians. But we can't make peace or truce with banditry, can we?"

The crowd answered with a thundering cheer. The Guild Master continued hollering "From this moment, from this place, here in Shariz, we declare war on raid!"

An enchanted crowd roared the city with their chants. The Guild Master sent for some guards from the city castle to imprison those bandits, then he left the plaza with cheers of Shariz people.

The Guild Master was near the almost abandoned tavern when Masolon suddenly appeared in front of him.

"Masolon!" exclaimed the Guild Master. "You really scared me."

"You should keep your composure from now on Mas'r." smiled Masolon. "You just have waged a war, and people of Shariz have a new hero now."

"You were watching?"

"I was nearby unnoticed. I see that what you did was crucial to boost the morale of people of this city"

"You and your band are the true heroes, Masolon." said the Guild Master. "You really deserve your gold. Tell your band there is more, if you are ready of course."

Masolon listened to the Guild Master. It was another mission for the band of war.

**Band of War**

It was a festive night for Masolon and his company at Jeremus's house. In order not to drag much attention, Nizar sneaked a barrel of ale to celebrate inside the house, whose owner -Jeremus- was not back yet from his mission in Weyyah.

"The best ale for the pious man!" ranted Nizar, he was addressing Firentis who refused to accept a cup from Nizar.

"I am sorry my friend," said Firentis, "but I never touch this evil drink."

Firentis's detestation of ale was something expected by anybody who knew his tale. Nizar's tease was also something expected by anybody who knew the wandering ashik. Rolf wondered for how long Firentis could tolerate a lad like Nizar.

After some gabble and prattle, Masolon briefed his company about their next mission; a scene that was repeated afterwards for several times.

The war on bandits was just starting, and the first battle for Masolon's company that occurred near the northern borders of Shariz was just a beginning. During a whole month, the Guild Master sent Masolon and his _band of war_ four times to wipe out raiders' bands that lied outside the city threatening its trade routes. Risks associated with such tasks were huge, and so were the rewards; a notion that attracted more men to join Masolon's company. Masolon was leading at that time a party of thirty warriors.

"Why don't those Sarranid lords send their legions of mamelukes to crush those bandits?" Rolf once asked Masolon in one of their Sarranid nights, when they were in the tavern, after one of their missions.

"There are many reasons." said Masolon. "Disciplined forces like those of the Sarranids will surely shatter those nomads in moments. The problem is they rarely encounter each other. Bandits are extremely agile and hard to be spotted, and you can only find them if they want to. Our band is the best nightmare for those thugs because we have their agility."

"You have the most agile horseman in the sultanate." intervened Nizar.

"Sure my brother." smiled Masolon at Nizar, then back to Rolf "Most of the Sarranid troops of the western region of the Sultanate that comprises Shariz and Weyyah were dispatched two weeks ago outside Shariz, and I had some rumors telling that those troops suffered heavy losses."

"Look at you my friend; you barely spent six months in Calradia, and now you talk like a native Calradian." smiled Rolf.

"Well my friend, I just keep my ears open." smiled Masolon. "The conclusion here; we are currently the sultanate only hope to win this war on banditry. So far, those devils' attacks are outside the city walls. If they felt that the Shariz is vulnerable, they may wage their raids here, inside the city. It will be havoc."

"It will be havoc if we didn't fetch some bread." said Nizar. "We are running out of it, and I don't wish to have ale for my dinner."

Although Nizar was not ranting that time and looked serious, Masolon and Rolf laughed. Firentis smiled and said he would go seek some bread from the market, but Masolon had already left the tavern to do so.

It was a quiet late night in Shariz. Most of shops were shut at the marketplace, and it seemed that there would be no bread for Nizar that night.

It was not hard for Masolon's wild ears to recognize echoes of footsteps behind him, especially in such silent streets. There were many footsteps. Masolon turned around hauling his sword but he was truly stunned. He saw almost twenty masked men approaching him. Masolon was outnumbered by much, but he didn't intend to yield without a fight.

**The Night Rider**

A full moon of a clear night showed many stars in the sky of Shariz like bright diamonds that floated on a blue quiet sea. The silent desert outside the city looked majestic in such night. There was no wind to shake the fronds of the scattered palms to make any sound that would break that breath-taking silence. Even desert beasts did not show any signs of life as if they were buried beneath the vast sandy terrain.

A spot of light was moving in the desolate desert as a small sun that illuminated the surrounding gloom, heading slowly the walls of Shariz.

A group of Sarranid spearmen were guarding the main gate of Shariz. There was no much activity at that late time of night, except for that of patrolling watchmen. No caravans or travellers were going in or out. Even desert beasts seemed to be asleep.

Two guards watched the lifeless lands extended to the end of their sights. They were sweating under their heavy armours.

"What a summer this year!" exclaimed one guard.

"Summer this year is like summer last year." said the other, "But to me I prefer this hot weather to the sandy autumn winds."

Both guard watched a mamelukes squad that patrolled around the city wall. It was not accustomed to see heavy cavalry in night watch.

"What's all this worry about?" asked the first guard. "My cousin in the royal palace told me that the guard is doubled, and there is a state of extreme vigilance inside and around the palace more than usual. It seems that we are at the verge of a big war."

The second guard looked around to make sure no one else was listening.

"I guess war has started already." the second guard said. "Troops were seen almost two weeks ago marching outside Shariz heading west."

"They were scouting for enemy forces they said." said the first guard.

"Scouting? With thousands of mamelukes and infantry?!" said the second.

"Someone is coming!" cried a third guard from behind.

The two guards gazed towards the desert. A moving kindled torch was approaching from the heart of darkness. It was unusual for anyone to travel in the desert of Shariz at night. Night was the 'Ally of Raiders' as people of Shariz called.

It was only one horse rider, yet the guards were alert for any possible surprising moves. As the rider approached the guards, he noticed archers on the gates holding their bows.

"No need for that, fellows." said the rider. "It's only me." he stopped his horse, raising his hands.

"What sort of matters urged you to venture out in the dark?" asked the first guard suspiciously.

"The dark?" said the rider. "I travelled in the dark more than you lived in the light. I am here to see some friends." he lowered his hands.

"You don't look from here." said the second guard. "You almost carry nothing," he checked him carefully, "as if you are going to hit something and run."

"I am in hurry." said the rider. "I don't have to stay in Shariz for life if I didn't wish to. I have my matters elsewhere to take care of."

The guard was skeptical, but he found nothing fishy. He didn't like the rider without any particular reason.

"I will watch you if you did anything wrong, stranger." the guard let the rider pass the gate of Shariz.

"I am sure you will." said the rider. "Call me Borcha."


	5. Chapter 5: A Hero from the Desert

**The Mountain of Jamiche**

In the same night in which Masolon was surrounded by the masked men, there was much activity in other place.

There were noticeable movements of Sarranid soldiers inside and outside the royal palace of Shariz. Guards were spreading in specific areas around the gates and walls of the palace. Archers were hurrying towards watch towers. Two squads of elite mamelukes were patrolling around the palace perimeter.

Three Sarranid emirs were escorted by royal guards to the sultan's hall. It was Hamezan -the sultan's most trustworthy emir, Nuwas –Hamezan's brother, and Ayyam –Nuwas's son and Hamezan's nephew.

The janitor opened the door the moment he saw the three honourable emirs coming in. Without saying a word, Hakim gestured for them to sit at once. Ayyam felt a bit anxious when saw the sultan's face. It was like a volcano that would erupt at any moment.

"How is your wife now Emir Nuwas?" asked Hakim with a stone face.

"She is much better now sultan," replied Nuwas, "thanks to the Swadian physician you told us about. She was almost dying before he arrived."

Although the sultan was the one who checked for Lady Isna's health, he showed no response. It was an awkward state of silence, as the emirs waited for Hakim to talk first and no one of them dared to speak before him. The sultan was doing his best to conceal his rage.

"All of you descend from honourable families." said Hakim. "Your father was one of the most dignified emirs in the Sultanate," he addressed Nuwas and Hamezan. "I summoned you today because we -as a sultanate- are facing a serious situation."

The three emirs were listening carefully to Hakim. Ayyam noticed that there were more guards than usual in the hall. The young emir started to worry.

"These guards are not a threat, young prince." said Hakim to Ayyam, the latter was surprised when the sultan read his thoughts.

"They are here to protect us." continued Hakim before addressing the three emirs "Let me remind you with last events. We sent a legion of two thousand mamelukes and four thousand Sarranid infantry to crush four thousand Rhodok infantry soldiers, according to the information we had received from our spies."

"But the forces we encountered were much more than we..." said Hamezan, before Hakim interrupted him, hitting his own hip with his fist.

"My orders were to stop the invading enemy troops!" shouted Hakim with sudden fury. "Not to invade the Rhodoks, Emir Hamezan! A veteran commander like you was supposed to know when to advance and when to wait, but you ventured in like a reckless crude recruit!"

Such scolding was embarrassing to Emir Hamezan, especially in the presence of his nephew. The young prince was biting his lips in a nervous manner. He recalled the ominous battle at the mountain of Jamiche two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago, the Sarranid legion led by Hamezan and Ayyam had advanced to block the attacking Rhodoks troops. According to the information gathered by the Sarranids, the latter side had expected to clash with the Rhodoks at the plains between Shariz and the mountains of Jamiche, but the Sarranids had marched for three days without facing any Rhodok soldier. Ayyam advised his uncle to wait for the Rhodoks to advance to avoid being dragged to the choppy terrain of the steppes, but the arrogant uncle did not listen to the young cousin. The Sarranids continued marching till they were ambushed at the mountains. One thousand Rhodok sharpshooters -positioned up the mountain- showered the Sarranids with rains of arrows. The weakened Sarranids side -who were deprived of a leveled terrain to deploy powerful cavalry charges - was then engaged by the Rhodoks heavy infantry. Six thousand Rhodok sergeants crushed the crippled Sarranid mamelukes. Hamezan was helpless and was desperate to find a way out of that trap. Ayyam led the outnumbered weary Sarranid infantry and tried to boost their morale. The young emir realized that his remaining troops will be completely vanquished if he did not wipe out those Rhodoks sharpshooters.

Ayyam split his infantry into two groups. He ordered his Sarranid spearmen to assume a wall formation to isolate the Rhodoks infantry at the steppes from their archers at the top. Ayyam himself led the other group of Sarranid swordsmen to ascend up the mountain of Jamiche and lost almost one third of his group in that raid before finishing the Rhodoks archers off.

Ayyam still had eighty Sarranid archers down the mountain who had not engaged yet in the battle. The young prince hurried them up the mountain to take their positions and set back the Rhodoks advance.

Tides of battle were changing. The Sarranid archer at mountain top were not numerous, but they were sufficient to hold more Rhodoks from advancing. Ayyam and his remaining swordsmen hasted down the mountain to aid their spearmen, where the wall they formed was falling apart and was not able to hold their ground anymore. The young emir's charge with his swordsmen lifted up the spirits of his remaining spearmen. It was a final and crucial charge that shocked the Rhodoks sergeants, who had thought that their opponents would be clearly defeated. Ayyam still had around two thousand infantry, three hundred cavalry, and eighty archers against almost three thousand Rhodok infantry.

Both sides were exhausted. The Sarranid ranged attack pushed the remaining Rhodoks backwards. Ayyam hold his troops from advancing anymore. Hamezan who lost control in the beginnings of the battle watched his nephew ordering the remaining troops to stand their ground till he was sure that Rhodoks would not regroup to launch a counter attack. It was hard to describe the battle aftermath as a victory for the Sarranids, or a defeat for the Rhodoks as both emerged from battle with heavy casualties.

The painful memories of the battle inside Ayyam's mind were interrupted by the sultan's voice saying "Our loss is baneful, yet it is not the most grievous pain to me."

The three emirs looked at their sultan wondering. The sultan took a deep breath to keep his composure.

"My honorable emirs, we have a traitor among us." said Hakim.

**A Fair Price**

In his training at Lezalit's pit, Masolon had learnt to engage with ten opponents. However, nerves in real fights were different than those in sparring.

When Masolon found twenty masked men following him, he did not consider surrendering without a fight, despite it was clear that it was going to be his most arduous encounter since he arrived in Calradia for the first time.

Masolon was examining his opponents and surroundings as Lezalit had taught him. The twenty men -who were all armed with swords- advanced slowly forming half a circle around him.

"Drop your sword Masolon!" a voice cried from the intruders' side.

Masolon recognized Lezalit's voice, but could not spot him. The twenty faces covered by masks and darkness looked alike. The intruders stopped advancing except for one. It was Lezalit who stood between Masolon and his masked company.

"You need no sword." said Lezalit raising his hands, removing his mask. "I am here to talk."

"You are here to _talk?" _repeated Masolon suspiciously. "I see you brought too many men for such task."

"These are some of my students." Lezalit pointed with his thumb backwards. "We were in a training journey, and I thought of passing by." smiled Lezalit cynically.

"Then I am grateful for your visit. Anything else?" said Masolon firmly.

"Is this your way to welcome me?" said Lezalit. He sighed before continuing "I always wonder Masolon what I sowed to reap this hatred. You are now what you are because of me. Despite being a commoner, you had the chance to stand one foot away from the Vaegirs king, and charm a lovely princess, because of me. Travelers to Shariz tell tales about mysterious Masolon and his band of war, because of me. You came here as nobody, but look at you now because of what I taught you."

The part of _charming a lovely princess _surprised Masolon. His eyes smiled for a second when Tamar's smile overwhelmed his thoughts.

"You taught me to make use of me." said Masolon after restoring his composure. "There is nothing virtuous in this matter; you gave me something, and I pay for what you gave me."

"I am not a monk Masolon," said Lezalit, "but I didn't anything wrong to you. Training is my profession, not my mission. I see no shame in naming a price for my work. You yourself can now tell that; you name a price for your work, just like me. What makes you better than me then?"

"I see a big difference Lezalit." said Masolon. "To me, gold is my horse, but to you, it's _your_ destination. This is something you will never understand Lezalit. Six months ago, I arrived here. I had many confused dreams, but by time one vision is growing clearer. You trained me to be a tournaments champion. This is the path you chose me, not what I chose."

"I didn't fool you." said Lezalit. "When we meet first time outside Jelkala, I was transparent to you regarding your path, and you agreed to take this path with your own will. A fair agreement it was."

"It is not fair to tie me for eternity." said Masolon. "I am not against the notion of you being rewarded for your efforts, but not this way Lezalit. We can agree and name a _price, _for once and for all."

"This will be a huge price." smiled Lezalit rubbing his chin. "Considering what you are earning now, and what you are going to earn in the future, and all because of my drills; it won't be less than tens of thousands of golden coins."

Masolon raised his eyebrows with wonder. He thought that a man like Lezalit should had been a trader rather than a trainer.

"We can't reach an agreement like this." said Masolon. "You know I can't afford this."

"I am not beguiling Masolon." said Lezalit. "I really want to end this, but not before receiving a fair remuneration. To be frank, I am tired of arguing with you. All what I seek is gold and silver. I will find new champions, I am expert in this. Yet, I am not going to release you from your pledge before you pay for it."

Masolon twisted his mind looking for an egress. Lezalit tarried a while watching Masolon in his puzzle.

"I have a way out for you." said Lezalit.

Masolon was desperate to find an exit. He could barely wait to listen to Lezalit's proposition.

"One last tournament." said Lezalit. "Only one tournament to win, and you shall never see me again."

"That is it?" doubted Masolon "What happened to the fair price?"

"It's a one tournament in particular." said Lezalit. "The tournament of Praven."

Lezalit could see Masolon's suspicions in his eyes. The latter needed more explanation.

"I tell you what I am thinking of." said Lezalit. "You are completely anonymous to this city, even to the whole kingdom of Swadia. Your odds will be extremely low, and as I have told you before: lower odds mean more gold."

Masolon was eager to release himself from Lezalit pledge, but he had concerns on what Lezalit's suggestion feeling that something was missing. Lezalit still could see Masolon's queries in his eyes.

"All right I will tell you." said Lezalit who seemed to be upset to expose more details "Betting is considered a sort of fun in any city if compared to what runs in Praven. Betting is an enormous business in Praven. I knew men who grew wealthy after winning severely risky bets; however, losses are disastrous. Anyone from Praven should think twice before putting his money on you -anyone but me of course. I can get my _fair price _if I arranged a number of big bets with the help of my connections in Praven. It will be a one bulky bet of a colossal expected return.

Lezalit hardly watched Masolon's eyes in the night darkness. At last Masolon looked convinced.

"Beware Masolon." continued Lezalit. "This move can be done only once. Losing this tournament will ruin me and you as well. There will be blue-blooded men involved in this, and you surely don't wish to mess with their gold. If you survived them, you will be mine forever."

Lezalit and his men left Masolon pondering the suggested way out. It was like crossing a thin bridge over a huge deadly pit, but Masolon had no other options.

**The Guardian of Shariz**

In the royal palace of Shariz, the three Sarranid emirs held their breath when the sultan revealed his belief in the presence of a traitor among them. They were not sure what the sultan meant he said 'among us'.

The Sarranid Sultan felt their concerns. He had to clarify.

"Ayyam," called Hakim, "you demonstrated yourself as a worthy leader in battle. Tell me if you were a sultan sitting on my throne and you had lost around half of your army in the western region of the sultanate, what would be your next move that I should have made as a sultan?"

Ayyam was not sure of Hakim's aim from his question. Those moments were critical, and Ayyam felt that his word should be weighted before they go out of his tongue. There was nothing more dangerous than a raged ruler who might take harsh decisions because of a spilt word.

"I wouldn't leave my west borders vulnerable to the Rhodoks, my sultan." said Ayyam who tried to look confident. "The day the battle had ended, I should had sent for reinforcements from the central region of Durbuqa, sultan."

Nuwas tried uselessly to read the destination of Hakim's thoughts but he could not create a clear picture of it. Hamezan's face had gone red since Hakim blamed him awfully. Ayyam was anticipating the sultan's reaction.

A sigh came out from Hakim's chest. Ayyam's heart beats were accelerating.

"That is what I exactly didn't wish to hear." said the sultan firmly.

Half of the young emir's mind was sure that he did not commit any misdeed, but the other was worried from any unexpected reaction from his inflamed sultan.

"Rhodoks rarely fight outside their croppy lands." said Hakim tensely. "You should refer back to their history Ayyam to understand your adversaries. Since they rebelled against the Swadian sovereignty, they have been at endless wars against their mother kingdom. Rhodoks know very well that if they blink while guarding their northern borders, they will wake up to find Swadian knights besieging Yalen."

The three emirs were astounded by their sultan's manners in that particular day, especially Nuwas and Hamezan who had known him long time ago. Usually, Hakim was not used to talk so much, and he was always calm and rarely was seen nervous. The emirs were also confused by what Hakim had said till that moment. They felt he was hiding something, and that worried them.

"That Rhodok attack was a decoy." said Hakim. "While we are talking now, Arwa is leading an army of Sarranids and Khergit mercenaries from our northern side. If I had done what Ayyam had said, the northern side would have been thin against those assaults."

The news shocked the emirs.

"Arwa?!" exclaimed Nuwas. "She is behind all of this?"

Hamezan considered what he had heard. A prospect was drawn in his mind.

"She is not alone." said Hamezan. "Someone is helping her from inside. Someone who wanted us to be involved with war against the Rhodoks, and hence, dragging our attention away from the northern borders."

"These are my doubts." said Hakim. "Arwa had already made arrangements with Rhodoks, and we are not sure if she had made the same with Khergits or with us; some of us I mean. I don't wish to accuse anyone by name right now, but you three are the only three noble men trust in this realm."

The last phrase relieved the emirs and dissipated their fears. Hamezan was thinking of a particular name to be accused as a traitor, but he preferred to wait till he had a solid proof.

"We need to keep our eyes and ears open these days." said Hakim. "Nuwas, you ride right now to Ahmerrad with my letter to command our northern army. Hamezan, you will command our reinforcements in the central region of Durbuqa."

Hamezan felt a bit annoyed as he was always Hakim's spearhead. Nuwas did not show any reaction as he did not want to irritate his brother.

"I won't displace any troops from any other region right now, Ayyam." said Hakim. "Your mission is to replenish our western army as fast as you can. Safety and security of Shariz people is now your responsibility."

Ayyam was grateful and excited for such trust from the sultan. His feelings went up and down in such a tense meeting.

At last the emirs were allowed to leave.

"Ayyam! One more thing." the sultan called the young emir to come back. "I have received some obscure news about a 'war band' located here in Shariz.." the sultan waited for a clarification.

"I heard of them of too, sultan." said Ayyam. "We were occupied by the late major incidents, but I heard they were some sort of mercenaries hired by the Guild of Master for the his _war on raid _as he called."

The sultan paused for a while to make sure that Ayyam had said all what he had known about that issue. Ayyam felt something behind that awkward silence.

"In such critical situation Ayyam," Hakim put his hand on Ayyam's shoulder, "and as a guardian of Shariz, you must know every single event that happens in your city. A wicked huge conspiracy is threatening our realm, and as you see, we are not sure yet how many factions are involved in it. And amid all of this; a band of mercenaries appear from nowhere in that particular time! Coincidence must be your last assumption to interpret what goes on, Ayyam."

Hakim leaned to Ayyam and looked straight to his eyes.

"I know you will do what is right for your people." said Hakim firmly. "Now you go."

Ayyam's eyes brightened with elation. He was flying, though his feet were on the ground. The air he was breathing was different that time. A breeze of joy freshened him in that dry hot Sarranid night.

**A Journey to Weyyah**

Next morning, Ayyam decided to travel to the castle of Weyyah to overlook its fortifications. Before leaving Shariz, he gave his orders to find Masolon -the war band leader- and bring him alone to Weyyah. The emir affirmed that the wanted man was not guilty, and should be escorted as a guest.

A group of Sarranid guards went to fetch Masolon. They were informed that their target would be most probably at Jeremus's house or at the Guild Master's place.

It was a brief search before the guards found Masolon with the Guild Master at the latter's house discussing the next quest. The band leader did not resist especially when he knew that it was Emir Ayyam who summoned him. Before leaving, Masolon asked the Guild Master to inform Firentis that the Swadian captain would be in charge of the war band in any coming quests till their leader's return.

The sun heat was more gentle than it had been for the whole previous two weeks. A horde of Sarranid mamelukes departed from Shariz escorting the war band leader to the castle of Weyyah. Masolon's mind was flooded with thoughts from different directions. He was curious rather than worried about the reason of the emir's decent call rather, there were no shackles or chains.

The notion that worried him seriously was the war band cohesiveness after passing the band leadership temporarily to Firentis. Masolon had no major concerns regarding Firentis who was used to be a squad captain in one of the finest armies in Calradia. Yet that band was something different than any regular disciplined troops. It was a group of heterogeneous members, whose bonds between each other were not coherent as most of them did not spent more than a month with each other.

Masolon wished he could inform Rolf in person. The bald lad was a capable member and most important a trustworthy person. It was one person to choose at the end, and Masolon was sure that he picked the best available option; however, he was worried of Rolf's reaction.

Nizar's face popped out in his thoughts. The former ashik was a tough warrior, yet a troublesome lad. Previously, Masolon's presence prevented many small conflicts from snowballing into big clashes. He wondered what might happen in his absence.

One masked mameluke next to Masolon reminded him with Lezalit and his men. Masolon recalled the whole conversation with Lezalit and what the latter said about his narrow exit to be released from Lezalit's pledge.

"...charmed a lovely princess..."

Lezalit's voice was clearly heard in his mind. Masolon tried to pretend that he did not hear that part of the conversation, but he could not. That part imposed itself on the rest of thoughts. Faces of Firentis, Rolf and Lezalit faded away, and only Tamar with her pretty smile was the face his mind wanted to remember; a daydream that Masolon did not wish to end.

'How true could that be?' one part of his mind asked.

'Don't be such a fool. Those kind of love stories exit only in fairy tales.' said the other part of mind.

'The rumor reached Lezalit. You see fire from the ashes remained.'

'Don't tell me that you believe she likes you because she...looked at you! Stop these delusions Masolon. The whole matter is not worth thinking of!'

Masolon woke up from his thoughts to watch the enchanting sight of sunset in the desert. He could see the towers of Weyyah at the horizon.

Once the escort reached its destination, a page in the castle was at their reception. He told Masolon that Emir Ayyam was expecting his arrival that night, but meanwhile he was busy with his engineers at the castle towers.

"Emir Ayyam will meet you tomorrow at early morning." said the page. "Till then he asks you to make yourself home, and feel free to go anywhere inside the castle walls."

Masolon asked the page about Jeremus and whether he was still there at the castle. The page told him that the physician was taking care of Lady Isna's health at that time. Masolon asked the page to inform Jeremus that he would be wandering in the castle yard to enjoy the night breeze.

Masolon did not enter a castle before in Calradia, but he felt that there were too many guards and archers everywhere.

"The rumors of war seem to be right then." he muttered to himself.

Torches were scattered in the castle yard that made it impossible for any intruder not to be seen. It was like the sun had risen over the castle of Weyyah at night. At the backyard, Masolon could see the palm dates red despite the night darkness. Looking down the palm trunk he could recognize a big round wooden plate fixed on the trunk itself. He thought he saw circles drawn on that plate and a few arrows planted in it. Out of curiosity he walked towards the palm tree till he was one foot close to inspect that wooden plate.

"Is that what I think?" he muttered.

His wild ears caught that whizzing sound. With an instinctive reaction, he bent his head down in less than a second to avoid the arrow that would had missed him anyway. He was alarmed for a moment as he did not expect a hostile action at that place. His eyes, in a second, moved its sight towards the shooter. It was the sweetest shooter he had ever seen.

**Siyafen**

During the few months he spent in the Sarranids lands, Masolon had never seen a lady with such a beauty. The dress she wore and the maid standing beside her told she was a young Sarranid princess. The girl was light-skinned, wearing a red hair cover that revealed tufts of her burnt-orange hair. She walked towards him in quick steps holding her bow.

"I am so sorry!" cried the pretty girl. "I didn't mean to scare you." she was terrified. After she realized he was not hurt by her arrow, her alarmed face turned assertive abruptly in a childish way "What are you doing here anyway?"

Masolon could not hide his silly smile. The girl's pretty appearance and childish manner were interesting.

"I noticed you are blind for not recognizing my practice range," she continued, "but I didn't think you are a deaf as well."

The girl's childish manner overwhelmed her aggressive words. Masolon liked the notion that the girl was not acting as a princess and instead she was spontaneous.

"I thought I was sighted, but I have just realized now how blind I was." said Masolon.

"What is this?" the girl raised her eyebrows. "A sort of poetry? You don't like look a poet."

"I am not for sure. I am Masolon. Emir Ayyam sent for me to meet him."

"I am Siyafen. I am his sister."

Masolon did not know if that was good or bad news. He looked silent, but he was picking his words carefully before saying them.

"Are you surprised all the time?" asked Siyafen.

Masolon could not help laughing at her teasing manner.

"Forgive my candidness Lady Siyafen, but you don't look the Sarranids I used to see." said Masolon. Siyafen's face blushed for a moment.

"There is a reason for that." she replied. "My great grandmother was a Vaegir. You know what; all the Calradians of the six realms share the same ancestors." she leaned to see his bow on his back. "Do you mind if I see this?"

Masolon handed her the bow, she looked impressed.

"A Khergit bow!" she exclaimed. "A very strong bow indeed." she could hardly pull its string. "But look at your sword." she pointed at his scabbard. "You sword is Nordic, your bow is Khergit, and you look...I am not so sure...a Swadian perhaps?"

The girl was indeed her brother's sister. She had both his insight and knowledge about weapons. Masolon was interested by such knowledge from a girl like her.

"I am not from anywhere in Calradia." said Masolon. Siyafen was surprised.

"I can't tell you whether it is good or bad not to abide to a certain faction." she said. "A free wanderer like you have the luxury of picking what fits him best, not fitting himself to what he picks. My brother himself doesn't have the bless you have. He should choose from Sarranid swords, Sarranid armors, Sarranid horses, and most probably a Sarranid princess."

"Your brother loves his homeland, M'Lady. Nothing bad in this."

"Don't get me wrong. I love my homeland as well. What I mean if I use a Nordic crossbow for instance, it won't mean I am not proud of being a Sarranid. What about you Masolon?"

"What about me?"

"If I am not mistaken, you look like a mercenary who decided to leave his homeland and spent the rest of life here, am I right?"

"Amazingly right M'Lady." he smiled.

"So, you don't love your homeland, Masolon?"

"Homeland is not just a place of birth M'Lady. Home is where you feel you belong. Home is your parents, your neighborhood, your friends, your memories. I came to Calradia to find this _home_, because I lost all these things in my original homeland. I lost my parents, my neighbors, my friends and everything I belong to because of merciless killers and thugs who razed my original village to the ground when I was a child. Survivors travelled to the steppes, taking me with them and started to establish our new home there, where I grew up. But did bandits leave us on our own? They never stopped raiding on us, making our life like hell. Our resources were scarce that we had to fight each other to survive. My _home _ was simply a jungle, and we were mere beasts struggling for survival in that _home_."

Siyafen listened to what Masolon said with much concern. Her maid came next to her and whispered in her ears. The Sarranid girl nodded her head, and gestured to her to move. The maid took the princess's bow and left.

"You are an interesting person to meet Masolon." said Siyafen. "I believe there is more to hear from you. Unfortunately I must go now. We may continue our conversation another time."

Siyafen hurried after her maid. Masolon watched her till she was out of sight. Before sinking in his thoughts, he felt he was watched. He turned his head to see a friendly face.

"That was impressive." said Jeremus, who watched the whole conversation between Masolon and Siyafen.

"I was just on my own." smiled Masolon.

"You silly." laughed Jeremus. "I was not talking about you."


End file.
